


floating out to wonderland

by cherryvanilla



Series: when I grow up [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Casual Sex, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mpreg, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:22:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3835123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Johnny never has unprotected sex, but he's still on the pill because he loves what it does for his skin. Cleared up his acne right away when he was a teenager. Seabs calls him a vain motherfucker; Johnny tells him he wishes he had skin this good.</p><p>Which is when it all clicks into place, his mouth dropping open even as he distantly hears the doctor taking about the pill being only 97% effective and additional protection is always warranted if he isn't actively trying and...</p><p>Brent.</p><p>Protection. </p><p>They… hadn't. Oh, fuck. </p><p>Fuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	floating out to wonderland

**Author's Note:**

> Baby's first mpreg. Never saw it coming, honestly. I blame it all on Mel. Thanks to ferritin for beta and amandaj for endless cheerleading and for being my pregnancy fact-checker <3 And a huge shoutout to everyone on tumblr who encouraged me to continue this story, when it started out as just one-shot sex scenes. 
> 
> My last entry for the Tazer/Seabs b-day bash fest found [here](http://alotofthingsdifferent.tumblr.com/post/115763319265/my-favorite-hawks-babes-have-birthdays-coming-up). I never expected to have this done for it, though. 
> 
> Title from When I Grow Up by Garbage. I had to stop myself from calling it 'unprotected (god, i'm pregnant)' which is the lyric directly after.
> 
> Contains brief thoughts/mention of abortion.

Prologue

“I’m so fucking _bored_ ,” Johnny moans. 

Brent laughs at him, which is fucking rude. 

“Fuck you, Fatty,” Johnny says, pushing his toes into Brent’s stomach. 

Brent raises an eyebrow at him, still browsing Johnny’s Netflix cue. “That really hurts, Jon,” he says sarcastically. “Seriously, I’m about to start weeping.” 

Johnny rolls his eyes, downing the rest of his beer. He’s nicely buzzed. Relaxed enough that he doesn’t want to go out, which sucks because—

“I’m horny, man, let’s watch some porn.” 

Seabs laughs at him. “You watch terrible porn.” 

“All porn is terrible.” 

“Johnny, you fucking watch Bel Ami shit from the 90s. How can you be stuck up about your porn?” 

Johnny scoffs, shifting onto his knees and stealing the remote from Brent. “I’m not stuck up about porn.” 

“European porn is code for snob porn.” 

Johnny laughs loudly, head falling back against the arm of the couch as he resituates himself, bare feet back in Brent’s lap. “Just because you have no culture, Seabs…” 

“Yeah, okay, _culture_ , Mr. French magazines. Try a book next time.” 

Johnny flips him off, hears Brent’s answering laugh as he tries to find something on Netflix. He’s interested in nothing. He really would watch porn, but that’d mean getting his laptop from his bedroom and his bedroom is—too far away. 

“I’ve discovered the world’s worst combination, Seabsie.” 

“Yeah?” Brent asks, hand idly rubbing Johnny’s foot. “What’s that, kid?” 

“Being bored, lazy, and horny.” 

“Yeah,” Brent sighs. “When’s the last time you hit it?” 

Johnny tilts his head back so he’s staring at the ceiling of his living room. “Man, I dunno. Hooked up at that club we went to a few weeks ago? Think that was the last time. Dude was short, but had a pretty amazing tongue. You?” 

“Longer than that,” Brent admits. 

Johnny hums. Brent’s fingers feel good on his ankle, rubbing in small circles. Johnny’s blaming his slightly intoxicated self for the way his eyes roam over Brent’s body. His ‘fatty’ comment really was a ridiculous chirp. Brent’s pretty much all strong muscle. Sure, he doesn’t have the cut abs Johnny does, but then again most people don’t work at it the way Johnny does. It’s something Brent teases him about all the time, calling him a ‘gym rat’ and accusing him of doing it just to cruise dudes. 

It certainly _works_ , but it’s not why he does it. He just likes to feel good, and that starts with his body. Johnny must’ve been staring too long because when he pulls his gaze up, Brent is looking back. 

“Like what you see?” 

Johnny flushes a little at the tease in his voice. “Shut up, I just told you I’m hard up.” 

Brent’s laughter sounds punched out of him. “Wow, Tazer, you sure know how to make a boy feel good about himself.” 

Johnny purposely presses his heel against Brent’s dick. “Oh, I’ll make you feel good,” he says, as dirty as he can, feeling loose and lazy and outright silly. 

He expects Brent to laugh again, but he doesn’t. He—well, fuck, he just looks at Johnny dead on, licking his lips before whispering, “Yeah?” 

Johnny swallows hard, throat working, his dick practically snapping to attention. They’ve never done that, in all the years they’ve known each other. They talk about guys, talk about hook-ups in detail, talk about _everything_ , but they’ve never—ever. 

Brent’s one of his best friends, and yeah he’s hot, but just because someone’s hot doesn’t mean you automatically want to fuck them. Now though, it’s like a switch has been flipped and Johnny can’t think of a single reason why they shouldn’t bang one another’s brains out. 

“You wanna?” Johnny says, more steady than he feels. 

“Johnny, if this is what happens when you’re bored, lazy, and horny…” 

Brent trails off and Johnny raises his eyebrow slowly, waiting him out. 

“...then I say c’mere, baby.”

Johnny laughs, but he goes, bending his knees and then shifting forward, straddling Brent’s thighs. 

“Baby,” Johnny repeats flatly, once Brent’s hands are on his hips. He feels a little light-headed. He blames it on the alcohol. “The guys you screw actually like that shit?” 

Brent’s hands glide up and down Johnny’s sides and down his thighs. The touch sends sparks of arousal right to his dick. “They eat it up. Reserve ‘sweetheart’ for the ones I really like, though.” 

Johnny giggles this time, outright _giggles_. It’s got to be the beer. He drags his nails up either side of Brent’s neck before tangling them in his thick hair. “You’re so fuckin’ cheesy, Seabsie-boy.” 

“Mmm, maybe,” he murmurs, leaning forward and latching his mouth onto Johnny’s neck. “Let’s stop talking, eh, Johnny.” 

Johnny sucks in a gasp at the feel of Brent’s lips on his skin, warm and wet, planting kisses up and down the column of his throat. “Yeah,” Johnny whispers. 

Brent’s mouth feels like fire and his hands are everywhere, over his thighs, pressing into his hipbones, sliding over his ass, up his back and down again. 

“Fuck,” Brent grits out, squeezing Johnny’s ass beneath his palms, rocking him back and forth on his lap. His lips close over Johnny’s jaw. “Not sure I can ever give you shit about the gym again. Good god, your ass, kid.” 

Johnny hisses out a moan, mouth dropping open. He digs his fingers into the meat of Brent’s shoulders. “What happened to not talking?” 

Brent pulls his cheeks together roughly, rhythmically, starting a hot and hard grind. Johnny feels breathless when Brent licks a wet line up to his ear and tongues the lobe, before whispering, “How about you shut me up, then?” 

Johnny sees white behind his eyes, so fucking turned on. He fists his hand in the hair at Brent’s nape and does just that, pressing their lips together firmly. Brent’s are soft, softer than they feel on his skin. Johnny can’t help the moan that escapes him as their mouths move together, the kiss better than he would’ve imagined.

It starts out slow, breathing in time with each other, until Brent’s hips starts meeting the movements he’s set with his hands on Johnny’s ass and their mouths follow suit. From that point on, it’s like a runaway train, licking into one another’s mouths as their straining cocks brush against each other, the friction delicious and burning hot. Johnny moans into Brent’s mouth, bracing himself on the back of the couch as he fucks himself down, down, needing more, needing everything.

“Oh, fuck,” Brent pants out when they finally separate their mouths to breathe. “God, I wanna be in you.” 

Johnny falls forward, mouthing Brent’s shoulder through his shirt. Seabs knows he loves getting fucked and honestly there’s nothing that Johnny wants more right now. It’s been a while. “Christ, yeah. My bed, c’mon.” 

They nearly fall getting off the couch and then twice getting to Johnny’s room, kissing the entire time, Brent’s hands pulling at Johnny’s clothes. They lose their shirts in the hallway and everything else in the doorway to his bedroom. Johnny pushes Brent back onto the bed and climbs on top of him, not stopping at his torso, settling up his chest, his cock in front of Brent’s mouth. 

“Fuck,” Brent gasps out, gripping the base of it and jacking him a few times before sliding his lips over the head. 

Johnny’s eyes cross as he looks down at Brent, never once thinking he’d see him like this and being super grateful that he is. It’s a fucking sight, alright. 

“Yeah, Seabsie,” he sighs. “Yeah.” 

Johnny pulls back when he starts feeling too close. Brent lets him slip out of his mouth, licking his lips obscenely and smirking up at him. 

Johnny has to kiss him, flattening himself out and fitting their bodies together from head to toe. Their dicks press together as they rock into one another, Johnny’s leg between Brent’s thighs. Brent rolls him over, gets his mouth everywhere: on Johnny’s throat, his shoulders, his nipples. 

Johnny grapples at him, squeezing Brent’s ass, bringing one knee up so he can haul him in tighter. He eventually grabs the lube, the two of them still kissing, unable or unwilling to stop. 

Johnny forces himself to pull away though, if only so he can roll them over and straddle Brent. Seabs eyes widen when he realizes what Johnny has planned and he licks his lips, eyes flashing. He takes the lube from Johnny’s hand and coats his fingers before dipping one inside Johnny’s ass after teasing around the rim. Johnny moans and presses down into it, jacking his own cock while looking down at Brent, smiling weakly in encouragement. 

“You’re somethin’ else,” Brent whispers, adding a second finger. 

Johnny bites his lip, fisting his dick harder. “Kiss me,” Johnny says, leaning forward and resting one palm beside Brent’s pillow. Brent surges upward to meet him, open-mouthed and sloppy. Brent starts fucking him harder with his fingers until Johnny’s shaking. 

He pulls Brent’s lip between his teeth, before releasing it. “Now, man, c’mon.” 

Brent doesn’t have to be told twice apparently, just slicks up his cock and holds it for Johnny to sink down on. Johnny cries out as he does, fingers twisting in the sheets. Brent’s hands move to both of his hips, holding him firmly. God, he’s thick. Not terribly long, but a lot more girth than Johnny’s slender, long dick. It’s everything Johnny craves when he thinks about getting fucked: nice, fat cock filling him up. 

Johnny exhales shakily, bending down to kiss Brent’s chest, his neck, before finding his mouth again, almost blindly. 

“Love this ass, kid,” Brent gasps against his mouth as Johnny starts to move. He punctuates his words by squeezing Johnny’s cheeks hard as he helps Johnny move up and down. They kiss harder as Johnny rises higher up, so the head of Brent’s cock is holding him open, teasing his rim, before he sinks back down. Johnny can feel him everywhere, the slick drag of his cock against his prostate and the walls of his ass as Johnny in turn tightens up and relaxes.

Johnny’s hands find Brent’s, squeezing, his tongue curling around Brent’s own. Brent slips out of him when Johnny starts fucking himself harder and faster, losing some finesse, and they both giggle as they try to press him back inside. 

“Fuck,” Johnny grunts after he’s firmly seated, his laughter trailing off on a moan as he grinds himself down in slow circles. He starts lifting himself up and down again, feeling so god damn full, used. “Your dick, Seabs. Holy fuck. Feels so good, man.” 

Brent’s sitting up with him now and he grits out a laugh, tonguing the shell of Johnny’s ear. His hand slides downward, fingers circling Johnny’s hole. He tugs at the rim with his forefingers while pushing his thumb alongside his dick, barely getting his nail inside. Johnny lets out a shuddery moan. “You surprised?” 

“Jesus,” Johnny groans. “‘Lil bit.” 

Brent laughs again, biting behind his ear. 

Johnny screws himself down on Brent’s dick, hips moving in wide circles until Brent certainly isn’t laughing anymore. Until he’s clawing at Jonny’s back instead. 

“Oh, fuck, baby,” Brent says, one of his big palms dragging Johnny’s back, fingers splayed, scratching up over his scalp before sliding down again. “Gonna—god, you’re gonna make me come.” 

“Yeah?” Johnny groans, kissing the side of his face, his chin, his jawline. “Touch me, then, Seabsie, c’mon.” 

Brent does, keeping one hand curved between Johnny’s hip and ass while the other jerks him off frantically. 

Johnny comes just before Brent does, orgasm crashing through him, and he spasms around him. His teeth sink into Brent’s bicep as he listens to Brent’s gasped moans. 

“Johnny,” Brent breathes. “Oh _fuck_ , Tazer.” 

Brent fucks up into him hard, grinding in, his balls drawn up tight, and then he’s exhaling loudly, hands skimming up Johnny’s back and tightening around him. “God.” 

“Yeah,” Johnny agrees, nosing briefly along Brent’s neck before raising himself off Brent’s dick and dropping down beside him gingerly. He hears more than sees Brent flop back beside him, their shoulders brushing together. Their breathing is loud and sharp in the otherwise quiet room. 

It isn’t until Johnny feels come leaking out of him that he realizes they didn’t use a condom. 

“Ugh,” Johnny says, and Brent looks over in time to catch him dip his hand between his legs. 

“Oh,” Brent says, dragging a hand over his face and up through his hair. He looks completely wrecked. Johnny did that. He feels intensely smug. “Shit, sorry.” 

Johnny shrugs. “I know you’re clean.” 

“Mmm,” Brent says, rolling over a little to kiss his shoulder. “God, that was fun.” 

Johnny smiles. “It really was.”

“C’mere,” Brent whispers, hooking one finger under Johnny’s chin tipping his face upward until they’re kissing again, wet and deep. Johnny could easily get addicted to the way Brent tastes, the way he makes Johnny see sparks behind his eyes with the barest flicks of his tongue. He moves in closer, swings his leg over Brent’s thighs as the kiss grows more urgent. He presses his heel against Brent’s ass and the back of his thigh until Brent’s rocking against his still sensitive dick, moaning softly into his mouth. 

“Still bored, kid?” Brent teases when they break apart, nipping playfully along Johnny’s jaw. He sounds breathless though. His beard tickles and it’s only then Johnny realizes his skin is burning, probably has angry red marks from everywhere Brent’s whiskers have been scratching against his face and down his neck. 

“Yeah,” Johnny breathes, gripping Brent’s ass hard with one hand and riding his dick against the crease of his thigh. “You?”

Brent drags his mouth back to Johnny’s, licks his way inside, before nibbling at his bottom lip. “Fuck, yeah,” he groans. He gets two handfuls of Johnny’s ass and rolls them over so Johnny’s on top of him. 

There’s still come leaking out of his ass, slicking up his thighs now. He groans when Brent’s thumb slips between his crack, pushing the mess around before slipping inside to the first knuckle. 

“Oh, god, Seabs,” Johnny groans, shoving his hardening dick against Brent’s stomach. Johnny’s never been fucked without a condom before and the feel of Seabs pushing his come into him is—well, it’s a visceral image and it makes him go hot all over with how ridiculously sexy he’s finding it. 

“So fucking filthy,” Seabs whispers, lips catching on Johnny’s ear and making him shiver. He pulls his thumb out and Johnny whimpers at the loss until he feels Brent’s index finger slide inside, hard and fast, crooking upward to hit his prostate. 

Johnny shakes in his arms, mouthing at Seabs’ neck. Johnny’s dick is rock hard again, the sensations almost too much, bordering on painful, but the absolute best kind. He’s completely overwhelmed. “Don’t fucking stop,” Johnny groans. 

Seabs growls, fisting his free hand in Johnny’s hair and tugging his head up, slamming their mouths together. 

They’re fucking against each other with purpose now, Brent’s cock finally fattening up against Johnny’s own so he’s just as hard as Johnny is. 

“Come on, baby,” Brent whispers into Johnny’s mouth. “Wanna see you lose it.” 

“Seabsie,” Johnny gasps, clenching around his finger, his orgasm rushing up on him, less intense than the first but still so fucking good. He spills onto Brent’s chest, cock jerking hard. 

“That’s it,” Brent coaxes. “So fucking hot, kid.” 

Johnny fits their mouths together again, rubbing his cheek over Brent’s beard, groaning at the feel of it as their tongues lick at one another in broad, firm strokes. He gets a hand between their bellies, jerks Seabs off in a loose grip, making him tense and arch into his hand as he comes between them, gasping breathlessly into Johnny’s mouth. 

“Fuck,” Johnny breathes, ducking his head onto Brent’s shoulder, wiping his sweat-slickened brow against his skin. 

Brent’s finger slides out of his still wet ass and Johnny whimpers at the feel of it. 

“God,” Brent says, once Johnny’s rolled off him and they’re back to their earlier positions, everything exactly the same except Brent’s a little dirtier than before. 

“Here,” Johnny says, leaning over to his night stand to grab some tissues from the box he conveniently keeps there for just these purposes. 

“Thanks,” Brent replies, voice rough. He cleans off his stomach while Johnny stretches some of the kinks out of his arms and legs. 

“You’re something else, kid,” Brent says when he’s tossing the tissues into the garbage by the bed. 

“Mmm,” Johnny says, closing his eyes, feeling more than a little smug. “So now you know I haven’t just been all talk, these past years.” 

Brent laughs. “That I do. Shouldn’t have told you though. You don’t need a bigger head.” 

Johnny turns his head to grin at him. “Well,” he drawls. “I suppose you weren’t too terrible yourself.” 

Understatement of the fucking century. 

Brent’s smirking at him like he knows exactly how much Johnny’s downplaying that exact statement. He _was_ practically gagging over his dick, after all. “Not bad as a combat to boredom, eh?” 

“No,” Johnny agrees. “Not bad at all.” 

They grin at each other, easy and relaxed. Johnny feels so fucking good right now. But he’d feel better if he were cleaner. 

He swings his legs over the side of the bed. “I gotta shower, man. You want one?” 

Brent yawns, before shaking his head. “Nah, I think I’ll split.” 

“Okay,” Johnny says, padding naked to the bathroom. “We still on for pool tomorrow night?” 

“‘Course,” Brent says, standing up and looking around for his clothes. “Duncs says it’s a rematch to the death.” 

Johnny snorts. “I can’t wait.” 

Brent catches Johnny’s arm on his way to the bathroom, causing Johnny to turn and face him.

“Hey,” he says quietly. 

“Hmm?” 

“We’re good, right?” 

Johnny rolls his eyes, smiling. “Of course, buddy.” 

Brent smiles, relief evident, and then he steps into Johnny’s space, tilting his chin upward with one finger. “One more kiss?” 

Johnny nods, leaning in at the same time as Brent. It’s soft, gentle, unlike most of the one’s they’d shared tonight. 

“Night, Johnny,” Brent whispers, before turning to let himself out. 

Johnny’s a little dazed as he heads to the shower. Talk about things he never once expected to happen. 

At the same time, he’s got no regrets. 

___________________________________

Months One & Two

Johnny's been feeling kind of off for the past two weeks. He doesn't know what it is. Figures it's a bug or something. He doesn't like going to doctors, prefers to take care of things naturally. He uses his Netipot and vitamins and thinks maybe he's nipped it in the bud until he can't finish his workout (which has never happened to him before) because he has to throw up. He's also tired as fuck. 

"I think I've got mono," he tells Seabs over the phone and listens to his answering laughter. "If you gave me mono, Seabrook, I swear to god." 

Brent scoffs. "Like you haven't kissed someone since me." 

Alright, fair point. "It's easier to blame you." 

(The morning after they fucked, Johnny had woken up with ridiculous beard burn, just as he expected. 

_fuck u, my face looks like I’ve been rubbing it against sandpaper all night and I gotta face duncs and sharpy like this_

Seabs’ reply had been _you weren’t complaining last night_

Johnny’s face had heated just from the memory. 

_you’re an awful friend and you mock my pain_

_tell that to your orgasms, princess_ Brent had responded. 

That night, Duncs had wolf-whistled at Johnny’s obvious post-hookup state and Sharpy asked him if he’d had a run-in with a bear. Brent and Jonny had snuck smirking, pleased glances at each other all night, and it felt exhilarating, almost. To have this secret from their other friends, this thing that was just theirs. 

Johnny had gone home with a guy at the bar who’d been staring at his ass all night.  
Brent gave him a thumbs up as they’d walked out.) 

Brent’s laughing at him now. "You threw up, though. Mono doesn't make you throw up." 

"Ugh, don't remind me," Johnny says, already feeling queasy again. He wants to eat but he's honestly afraid to. 

"Hey, Tazer, here's a novel idea: go to a doctor." 

Johnny makes a face, but he figures if he ever wants to eat and work out again, maybe he should. "Fine, I'll go but I'm not gonna be happy about it." 

Seabs laughs again. "Shocker, man."  
______________________________________

Johnny had blood work done and a urine test. The doctor hadn't found anything else. So that's why he was kind of freaking out that they called him back in for his results, rather than telling him over the phone.

 _If I die, I want you to take my hockey card collection_ , he texts Dan.

His reply is _don’t make me fly in from Winnipeg just to kick your ass_. 

_Nice way to talk to a dead guy_ , Johnny responds back.

Glibness aside, he really is worried. He fiddles with the strings on his hoodie while waiting for Dr. Johnson. 

"Jonathan," she says when she enters.

Johnny nods, resolute. "Just tell me. I can take it."

Her smile is soft and kind. Exactly the kind of smile one gives when they're telling someone they're a goner. Johnny inhales deeply through his nose.

"Jonathan, you’re aware you carry the gene for male pregnancy, yes?"

Johnny blinks, hard. That is… not what he expected to hear.

"Uh, yeah? But I'm on suppressants, have been for years."

Johnny never has unprotected sex, but he's still on the pill because he loves what it does for his skin. Cleared up his acne right away when he was a teenager. Seabs calls him a vain motherfucker; Johnny tells him he wishes he had skin this good.

Which is when it all clicks into place, his mouth dropping open even as he distantly hears the doctor taking about the pill being only 97% effective and additional protection is always warranted if he isn't actively trying and...

Brent.

Protection. 

They… hadn't. Oh, fuck. 

Fuck. 

“Jonathan, are you okay?" Dr. Johnson’s saying, voice worried.

"I think I'm gonna pass out," he admits.

She gets him some water and they move things to her office instead.

"I take it this means you weren't trying," she says, voice rueful.

Johnny snorts, drags a shaky hand through his hair. "Hardly. Not even uh, in a relationship."

Dr. Johnson nods. “Can you tell me when you had penetrative sex without a condom, so we can gauge how far along you are?” 

Johnny hasn’t been this embarrassed since his parents gave him the sex talk. “Uh,” he says, palming at the back of his neck, trying to remember when he and Seabs did it. January definitely. “It was just the once, I think uh—seven weeks ago, I’d say.” 

“Alright. So that’s how far along you are. What you do now is up to you. I can refer you to a doctor who specializes in male pregnancies. You should have your first visit soon, if you choose to do so. I can also give you the names of a few clinics."

He knows what she means and it's almost as surreal to think about right now as it is to think he's knocked up. He can't really deal with either at the moment, honestly.

"Uh, both, for now please."

Dr Johnson nods, smiling encouragingly. 

Johnny rides the subway home in a daze.

 _Are you still alive?_ Dan texts him that night.

 _And then some_ , Johnny types back, and then crawls under the covers.

Johnny sleeps from 6pm to 11, suddenly even more exhausted—like the fact that his brain now knows he's pregnant means his body is feeling it more too. It's ridiculous and probably psychosomatic but whatever. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes and reaches for his phone, calling Dan before he can even think about it. 

He can't tell anyone else right now. Dan's—safe. Besides being his best friend, he also won't a) blab to his parents like Davey or b) let it spill out to Seabs like all his other friends inevitably would. 

Danny's... shocked to say the least. "Jesus, Johnny. Do you know whose it is?" 

Johnny bites his lip. He hasn't said it out loud yet. "Um. Seabs, uh. Brent."

"Hooooooly shit," Dan exclaims. "When—what? You didn't tell me you two were a thing." 

Johnny rolls his eyes. "We're not. We were a one time thing.”

 _two times_ his mind treacherously supplies. 

“We were… bored,” Johnny adds.

Dan's laugh sounds a little crazy. Good. So Johnny's not the only one freaking out over this. "That's—one hefty price for boredom, Johnny-boy." 

"Tell me about it," Johnny mutters. 

When Dan's voice comes again it's more serious, quiet. "What are you gonna do, man?" 

Johnny sighs and stares up at the ceiling. "I don't know. I fuckin' love kids, but I—god, I dunno." 

Johnny’s two months shy of 26. He went to school for Business, owns a small health food cafe that only recently started earning enough profit on to actually hire enough people so that he didn't _have_ to be there every day. He’s happy in Chicago, happy with his friends. He’s thought of eventually having a family and shit, but he figured he'd find the guy first. And even then, he'd never been sold on carrying the kid himself. Figured adoption could always be a way to go. 

"You need to tell him," Dan says. 

"I know," Johnny sighs. 

He has no idea how to even do that.  
____________________________________

Johnny really wants to tell him mom, but he can't... not until he at least knows what the hell he's gonna do. He texts Saader that he won't be in tomorrow. The kid's pretty good, he can handle opening. Johnny crawls back under the covers, one hand resting on his belly. 

"God dammit, Seabs," he whispers into the darkness of his room. 

He wakes up the next morning hoping to have all the answers but he doesn't. He eats breakfast, pouring himself a cup of coffee before staring down at it. He needs his fucking coffee. It's how he gets through his day. He sighs, pulls out his phone and does a quick google search. 

Apparently he can drink it, but not more than 2 cups a day. Johnny needs at least 3 cups in the morning _alone_. Anything else is just a tease. 

"Fuckin' kid," he says down to his flat stomach. There's literally nothing there to hint at a growing thing being inside it. "I'm talking to you when you're like, the size of a pea probably."

Feeling a little hysterical, he pulls out some orange juice instead and then flops down on his couch to play video games all day, not even bothering to shower. 

Seabs texts him around 4:30. 

_happy hour johnny boyyyyyyyy_

_first drinks on me and then later we'll hit that club with the hot dancers_

Johnny throws his phone across the couch. Johnny's never drinking again. He's never having sex again, either. 

Nothing good comes of either of those things. He'll just be a monk, it's cool. He scowls at the TV, thinking about Brent going out to clubs, maybe knocking up other dudes with his stupid dick, before he realizes just how irrational he's being. This wasn't Seabs' fault. Neither of them even thought about the condom and to be honest, if there was one person Johnny wouldn't have used one with—even if he _had_ been thinking—it would've been Seabs, who he trusts like crazy. 

He doesn't respond to the text. His phone blows up when it hits 5pm, Seabs probably on his way over to the bar and Johnny's shift supposed to have been ending. They do happy hour every Friday, joined by Duncs, Sharpy, and Kaner,. After, Johnny and Seabs usually go off to a gay club together, sometimes joined by Kaner if he's feeling like picking up dudes that night. 

His phone starts ringing soon enough. Johnny knows he can't avoid Brent forever, but he also really, really doesn't want make things weird between them. Despite Johnny never having fucked a friend like that before, they'd been pretty solid afterward. Things weren't in the slightest bit weird. Sure, Johnny'd gotten himself off at least three times the week following that night, thinking about the way he sank down on Brent, the way Brent kissed him like he was dying for it. 

But it was insanely good sex, and that's what you do with insanely good sex. 

He ignores the call and feels childish. He tells himself he'll call him back, tell him he's sick, but Brent would probably press him because he knew Johnny was going to the doctor. In the end he falls asleep on the couch before he's able to decide on a course of action. He's awoken to an insistent pounding on his door. Johnny groans, knuckling at his eyes before hauling himself off the couch.

His voice is scratchy when he calls out, "Who's there?" even though he knows perfectly well who's there. 

"It’s Seabs, man. Open up." 

Johnny's not awake enough for this. 

"Jesus, Johnny, answer your fucking phone. I thought you were dead," Brent says, muscling his way inside. 

Johnny closes the door slowly behind him, taking in a deep, long breath. 

When he turns around Brent's looking at him expectantly. He's wearing his hat from The Scout, his dumb jean jacket that makes him look straight out of the 90s and a severely unimpressed expression. 

"You _look_ like death. Did you get the results back?"

"Yeah, I did," Johnny says, his voice sounding a lot steadier than he feels. 

"And?" 

Johnny gives him a weary look. "And you should sit down." 

"Fuck, I knew something was wrong, man," Brent says as he sits on the end of the sofa, dragging his palms along his jeans. Johnny sits at the other corner. "You'd have to be near death to miss happy hour." 

"Or pregnant," Johnny blurts, unable to keep it inside one minute longer. 

Brent rolls his eyes. "Har, har, man. Come on, tell me. What's wrong with you?"

Johnny gives him his most intense stare, the one that made Brent say to Sharpy, "Who's the dude with the eyes like a taser?" the first time they ever met, at trivia night. 

"I'm pregnant, Seabsie." 

The way Brent's expression changes from one of concern to impatience to incredulity is really quite something. Johnny wishes he had a camera. "You... shit, seriously?" 

Johnny nods. "Bun in the oven, man." 

Brent's laughter is bordering on manic. Johnny's starting to feel the hysterics rise up in himself. "Jon..." 

Johnny looks down at his hands, sees how they're starting to shake. He shouldn't have told him, it's just gonna make everything...

"Jon, it's—it's mine, isn't it," he says, not a question. 

Johnny meets his eyes. Brent's are wide. 

"Haven't taken it up the ass since you and we didn't use protection, so yeah. You're the lucky winner." 

Brent's mouth twists. "Hey, don't—wait, aren't you on those pills?" 

Johnny shrugs one shoulder more casually than he feels. "Not 100% foolproof, buddy. Like I said, your sperm win." 

"Fuck," Brent breathes, sagging back against the arm of the couch. 

Johnny looks down at his hands again, tension settling in his back, stomach uneasy. So much for having been able to sleep together and not make it weird. 

"Hey," Brent says softly. "Kid, c'mere." 

He makes a face but scoots closer, still not meeting Seabs' eyes. He hasn't had any human contact since before finding out yesterday and is suddenly starved for it, feeling a vulnerability deep in his bones, a sensation that's mostly foreign. 

Brent's arms envelop him. Johnny's stiff at first, until Brent’s hands start stroking over Johnny’s back in soothing circles. Johnny melts into the touch, letting out a shuddery breath. 

Brent kisses his hair. "I'm so sorry, kid," he whispers against Johnny's temple. 

Johnny shakes his head. "What're you sorry for," he mumbles.

"My fault. Should've used something." 

Johnny burrows in a little closer. "There were two of us there, buddy." 

"Yeah, well," Brent mutters, "I was the one doing the fucking." 

Johnny snorts. "Pretty sure I was the one doing the fucking." 

Seabs hums against him and Johnny's suddenly transported back to that night, how insanely hot it was. It was hands down some of the greatest sex he's ever had and that was when they were both half drunk and lazy. It makes Johnny wonder what it would be like if they really tried for it. And then he stops that train of thought immediately because it's pretty fucked up to get horny in the arms of the friend who you just found out knocked you up. Johnny probably wouldn't be able to fully get it up right now even if he wanted to, which he doesn't, feeling decidedly unsexy given all the thoughts of possible abortion going on in his head.

As if reading his mind Brent kisses his hair again and says, "Whatever you want, Tazer. I'll be okay with anything you wanna do, man."

Johnny pulls back to look at him, really look at him. 

Brent's eyes are warm, sincere, and Johnny suddenly feels like an idiot for thinking he'd bolt out of here and let whatever Johnny's decision was affect their friendship. Brent's solid and he's been solid for Johnny in the past. Like last year when Johnny thought his business was gonna fold because what the fuck did he know about managing something, one year out of his MBA. Or when his first and only serious relationship crashed and burned when he found out Joe was cheating on him with Johnny's RA. 

For the former, Brent had given a pep talk, reminded him why Johnny had this, that he could make it work, that he was right behind him. For the latter, Brent found joe outside the dining hall and punched him in the face.

Duncs started calling Seabs his bodyguard after that. Johnny didn’t know why he liked it so much. He also liked the way he’d felt secure in Brent's arms just then, like things weren't spinning out of control right. Like he had this.

Like _they_ had this.

"Even if I want to keep it?" Johnny says. He's not even sure if that's true yet, but he has to ask.

"Yeah," Brent says quietly. "Even if you wanna keep it." His voice betrays nothing but his eyes... His eyes look—excited at the prospect.

And for the first time in 24 hours, or maybe in forever, Johnny wonders—really wonders—what it would be like to have a baby. 

______________________________

They lounge on the couch together, watching old South Park episodes. Johnny longs for a beer. He notices Seabs isn’t drinking either, having gotten them both a water bottle. By now they’re usually on their second beer each. 

“You can drink, man,” Johnny says. 

Brent shrugs. “Don’t need to.” 

Johnny doesn’t press the issue, just looks down at his stomach in contemplation. “Feels weird.” 

“Hmm?” Brent asks, tilting his head in Johnny’s direction from where it’s lolling back against the couch cushion. 

“Wouldn’t drink coffee this morning and tonight I won’t have a beer. Feels like—I’ve got a responsibility, even though I haven’t made a decision, you know? Just—weird.”

“Those motherly instincts kicking in,” teases Seabs. Johnny grabs the throw pillow that’s resting between them and chucks it at his head. Seabs commandeers it, hugging it to his chest. Great. That’d been _his_ armrest. 

Johnny sighs, then yawns. 

“Why don’t you get some sleep, man?” 

He looks at the clock on his cable box. It’s only 9pm. 

“I swear, if you start treating me like _I’m_ the baby…”

Brent throws the pillow at Johnny’s head this time, probably just to be contrary. “I’m not, idiot. You’re fucking tired, that’s easy to see. So go to bed.”

Johnny hates to admit he’s right. 

“Sorry to ruin our plans,” Johnny says when they’re at his door. 

Seabs shakes his head, then pulls Johnny into another bone-melting hug, Johnny’s head tucked against his neck again. Seabs only has an inch on him, but with his wider frame he just feels—all-encapsulating. “Fuck off,” Brent says without heat. His lips brush Johnny’s temple as he talks. “Meant it, you know. Whatever you need to do, kid. Ball’s in your court, eh? I’ll be here either way.” 

Johnny likes the sound of that that last part. 

___________________________________

Month Three

“I’m keeping my baby,” Johnny announces on a Saturday two weeks later, when Brent’s still standing in the doorway with his coat on, not having gotten out as much as a “hello.” 

“Okay, Madonna,” Brent replies and Johnny laughs so hard he cries. And then he just plain cries. He _doesn’t_ cry, is the thing. He hasn’t cried since he took his first penalty ever, at 7 years old, sitting in the box and hating that he let his team down that way. 

“Can I blame this on hormones?” he says, wiping at his eyes. “Or is it too early for that?” 

“Beats the shit outta me,” Brent says, voice fond. Johnny meets his eyes and—he’s looking at Johnny like he’s never seen him before. 

“What?” Johnny asks, voice suspicious. 

Brent shakes his head quickly. “Nothing, just. Wow.” 

“Tell me about it,” Johnny mutters, crossing to sit on the couch. There’s a Hawks game on tonight. They could at least watch that, pretend at least some of this is normal. 

“Kind of thought you’d say the opposite,” Brent admits when they’re both settled in, the anthem starting up on TV. “Took a little while deciding.” 

“Needed to be sure,” Johnny says. And he is sure. The more he thought about the idea of having this—little person around, in his life... well. It may be earlier than he’d thought it would happen, but he feels ready. Thinks he could do this. Thinks he could kill this shit. 

But just because he’s 100% committed now doesn’t mean he’s expecting the same from Seabs. He’s got his own life. He works as a high school P.E. teacher, coaches basketball on the weekends. It’s one of the reasons he’s always given Johnny shit for being a gym rat. _“If anyone should be one, it should be me, kid.”_

He risks a glance at Brent out of the corner of his eye.“Listen, uh. You don’t need—I mean, I’m doing this because it’s what feels right. So, how ever much or little you wanna be involved—I won’t judge, okay? We’ll still be cool” 

“I want to,” Brent says and Johnny turns to face him. 

“Huh?” 

Brent gives him an impatient look. “I want to be involved. That baby’s part mine, remember?” 

Johnny flushes high on the back of his neck. “So… this is happening, then,” Johnny says. Just—confirming. 

Brent reaches over, ruffles his hair. “This is happening, kid. Now shut up, game’s starting.” 

Johnny smiles at him, feeling warm all over, at Brent acting like it’s that easy. Like they don’t need to tell everyone because he’s probably going to start showing soon. Like his head isn’t spinning over the thought of making doctor’s appointments and getting sonograms and vitamins and whatever else. 

Well. He figures all those thoughts can wait till after the game, at least.  
_______________________________

 _have the 1st doctors appt 3:30 on thursday. u could come if you want_ Johnny texts Brent a few days later. 

_sure, i can make that_ Brent replies. 

_cool_ Johnny texts back. He’s pretty glad Seabs is going, to be honest. He doesn’t really know what he’s in for. 

Dr. Kim is nice and so relaxed that even Johnny feels a little less tense after they’re both called in. He’s also had two children himself on top of delivering a ton, so it’s not like he’s unfamiliar to this process on either a personal or professional level. 

Johnny introduces Brent as his friend, at first. 

“Very nice, you coming along,” Dr. Kim says. 

“He’s also the other father,” Johnny adds. 

Dr. Kim smiles brightly. “Well then. Even better.” 

Brent lets out a shaky laugh. Johnny’s sitting on the examining table. Dr. Kim takes his blood pressure and then does even more blood work. Johnny’s tired of needles already. 

“Alright,” he says when the medical assistant leaves with the vials of Johnny’s blood. “Now we’re just going to listen for the baby’s heartbeat today. It’s still too small for anything to really show up on a sonogram. We’ll do that at 12 weeks.”

“Okay,” Johnny says. 

“We’ll load you up with some vitamins and you can ask me all your questions and then you’ll be on your way. Easy as pie.” 

Johnny snorts. “Yeah.” 

Johnny raises his shirt and they hook him up to a monitor. Listening to the heartbeat fill the room is—wow. It’s something else. 

Johnny looks at Seabs, who looks like he’s seen a ghost. He meets Johnny’s eyes. “Oh, wow. That’s—our kid, huh?” 

Their kid, Johnny thinks. Good god, they’re having a baby together and he hasn’t even told his parents yet. 

“Jonathan, your pulse just skyrocketed. Are you alright?” Dr. Kim is asking. 

Johnny nods vaguely. When he looks at Brent he can see worry etched into his face. “Just—it’s all still a little surreal.” 

“Yeah,” Brent breathes. 

“That’s to be expected,” Dr. Kim agrees. “The heartbeat sounds strong, though. From what you listed on your paperwork, you’re about 9 weeks along. Do you remember the exact date of conception?” 

“It was mid-January,” Johnny says, just as Brent says, “January 10th.” 

Johnny blinks at him. 

Brent shrugs, but Johnny can see a little color rise to his cheeks. He watches him shrug one shoulder. “I’m good with dates.” 

Dr. Kim looks between them, smiling. “Perfect,” he says, before stepping over to the computer and punching in a few things. “Your due date is October 17th. Have you given thoughts on delivery methods?” 

“C-section. Absolutely,” Johnny says. He knows that much, for sure. Although he hates the idea of a scar. 

Brent’s looking vaguely ill now. Johnny just rolls his eyes. 

“Great. Follow me into my office. I can give you some more information and answer more questions if you have them.”

“Sounds good. Thanks, doc.” 

“How you hangin’ in?” Brent asks, as they follow him out. 

“Good,” Johnny says. “You?” 

“Good." Brent grins back and it makes his stomach flip. 

“Let’s do this,” Johnny says.

The rest of the visit is… a little overwhelming. Dr. Kim writes him out a list of vitamins to take. Johnny already takes a multi daily anyway, but this is a hell of a lot more. Dr. Kim tells him the foods he needs to stay away from: raw fish (Johnny _loves_ sushi), cold lunch meat (ew), and hot dogs (double ew) being the biggest ones. 

Dr. Kim told him he’d have monthly visits up until 28 weeks and explained the types of things he could possibly expect: hormonal changes, food and smell aversions, the ever-dreaded morning sickness. 

Johnny’s relieved to know he can still do his cardio routine without interruption and even lift weights (well, for a few months at least). He can’t bench press or do situps, but he’ll live. In fact, Dr. Kim says he doesn’t need to change his routine in general much at all. He should still stay active, go to work, do everything he has before. He tells him to make any adjustment he needs, depending on how he feels and that later in the pregnancy they’ll monitor for possible bed rest, dependent on how he’s coming along. Brent mostly stays quiet, letting Johnny ask the questions. 

Johnny nearly asks about sex… but something stops him, his eyes cutting to Brent next to him and feeling embarrassed even though he’s never felt embarrassed about that topic when it comes to Brent. 

They leave with an appointment for three weeks, when they’ll actually see this baby. 

Johnny kind of can’t wait to meet the little buddy. 

_____________________________

“Are you sure about this, Jon?” Brent asks for what’s gotta be the fourth time in an hour. 

“It’s fine,” Johnny says. 

“I don’t want to, like, intrude, man.” 

“Look, if you’d rather not be here...” Johnny snaps. 

Brent rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying it might be a little—much. The two of us randomly there.” 

Johnny bites his lip. “Alright, look. Sit at the other end of the couch, then. They won’t be able to see you.” 

Brent nods, smiling encouragingly. “You got this, Johnny.” 

Johnny takes a deep breath and pulls up Skype to get on the call. It’s 10 weeks now and—well. He’s gotta do this at some point. He’s got zero excuses. He feels better with Seabs being here, still a bit freaked out over how his parents might take this news. His parents, his mom especially, can be kind of old fashioned. They’re completely fine with his being gay, but she already wants him to settle down, mentions it anytime he’s back home for the weddings of his friends. How they’re all the same age, yet Johnny’s still perennially single. 

And yes, she wants grandchildren, but he really doesn’t think she meant it this way: knocked up by one of his best friends. 

"Hey, son," his dad says when the call connects and his parents’ smiling faces fill the screen. 

"Bonjour, Jonathan," his mom says. 

"Hey, guys. How are you?" 

"Alright," his dad replies. "You know, work is work."

Johnny laughs shakily. "Yeah, that it is."

His mom is eyeing him curiously, because of course she is. "Jonathan, what's wrong?" she says in French.

Well. That didn't take long. He wishes he had a better poker face. His eyes cut unwittingly to Brent's, who's just giving him a "Don't look at me, I don't speak French" face in response.

Johnny sighs, folding his hands on his lap. "Alright, we'll just cut to the chase then, eh? I wanted to do this in person but I can't get away right now..."

"Do what?" his dad asks, matching his mom's worried stare.

Johnny breathes in deep. "So uh, this wasn't planned or anything. But I'm pregnant. Having a baby."

They stare at him with equal parts shock and confusion.

"You… son, aren't you on those suppressants?"

Johnny bites the inside of his lip. He really never wants to hear that again. 

"They aren't 100%, Bryan," his mom cuts in. He could kiss her.

"Right," Johnny says, thankful that so far he's getting off scot-free on the 'why didn't you use a condom’ front. Of course, he could always tell them it broke, but this was already going into more detail about his sex life than he ever wanted to with his parents. 

"So I'm a little more than two months along. And I've decided to keep it."

His parents look at each other. "Well, son," his dad starts. Johnny watches his mom squeeze his hand. "If this is what you want, of course we support you."

"Thanks," Johnny says distantly.

"Who is the other father?" his mom asks.

Johnny bites his lip, forces himself not to look over at Seabs.

"It's uh, Brent. You've met him, remember?"

Both sets of eyes widen. "Are you—are the two of you an item?" his dad asks. 

Johnny snorts. 'An item'. He loves his parents, but they really can be so old fashioned at times.

"No," Johnny says. He can feel Brent's eyes on him. He really needs to get out of the rest of this conversation without admitting it was one night of passionate sex and that he'd never been fucked that good in his whole life. Johnny clears his throat, his vision growing hazy at the memory. "No, it was just something that happened."

"I see," his mom says, voice a little hard. Johnny winces internally. "And does he wish to be involved?"

"Yeah," Johnny says, unable to keep the smile from forming. "Yeah, he does. We're solid." 

"Is he there?" she asks in French. 

Johnny hedges, biting the inside of his cheek again, not meeting her eyes.

"Jonathan, is he there?"

Johnny was never all that good at lying to his parents. He meets Brent's eyes helplessly, watches him mouth "what?" back, before Johnny's at waving him to come over. 

"Yeah, he's right here."

Brent gives him the finger and a betrayed look before sitting beside him so that his face pops into view on the bottom of the screen.

"Um, hi Mr. Toews," he says waving. "Bonjour, Ms. Gilbert. Nice to see you again." 

Wow, he's good, hitting his mom right where she lives. Her eyes soften a little just at his bad attempt at French. He sounds terrified, though, like a lamb being sent to the slaughter. Johnny's fingers itch, feeling the overwhelming desire to squeeze Brent's hand. But that'd just be weird. 

"Bonjour, Brent," his mom says, before looking at Johnny. "The boy looks terrified, what have you told him about us?" she chides in French. 

"Nothing!" 

She gives him an unimpressed look. Jeez, he can't really win today. 

Brent's looking at Johnny, another 'help me' expression on his face. 

"From one _non-French Canadian_ to another," his dad says, laughing a little dumbly. God, Johnny loves him. "Nice to see you, Brent. How are you doing with all of this? I'm sure it was a surprise." 

Johnny watches Brent on the screen, sees him nod, lip pulled between his teeth. "Yes, sir. It um, definitely was. But I'm excited." 

His mom's eyes narrow at that. "Are you?" 

"Yes, m’aam," Brent replies, still turning up the charm. Johnny doesn't know if he wants to roll his eyes or hug him. "I've always wanted children. And I'm getting pretty close to 30. Seems like a good a time as any, regardless of it not—being planned." 

Johnny can see Brent flush at little at that end part. It kind of makes him feel good, knowing he's not the only one that gets a little worked up, just thinking about the night that led to all this. 

"But with my son?" his mom presses. 

"Johnny's one of my best friends. We're solid, like he said. Personally, I'm—honored. That he's having our baby." 

Johnny turns to look at Brent, mouth parting a little in shock. That's—wow. Wow. He decides fuck it, gives in and reaches out for Brent's hand, squeezing. He squeezes back immediately. 

His mom is looking at them both, fondly now. 

"Well, looks like you two know what you're doing," his dad says. "We're happy for you, aren't we, Andrée?" 

His mom nods. "Welcome to the family, dear," she tells Brent. 

"Oh, jeez," Johnny mutters.  
____________________________

"Well," Brent says after Johnny closes his laptop. "That could've gone worse." 

"We have to do this all over again with your parents, don't we," Johnny says flatly. 

"We do, but they don't even know what Skype is. So, phone call it is." 

Johnny groans. "Let's just get this over with." 

An hour later they've told Brent's parents, who were surprised but happy he's happy. Johnny could tell they were being pretty reserved about things, which makes sense. They'd probably be more invested if Brent were the one carrying it—instead it's just a friend he knocked up. 

"They'll be thrilled when it gets here," Brent assures him, even though Johnny hadn't said anything. 

"Whatever, man. It's cool." 

They each text their brothers because that's how they roll. 

"Keith is giving me shit for always having told him to glove up." 

Johnny waves his phone at Seabs. "Davey's doing the same." 

"Little brothers, man." 

"They're the worst," Johnny agrees. 

Brent snorts out a laugh and Johnny looks over at him, raising an eyebrow. 

"Speaking of the worst..."

Ah, fuck. 

Their friends.  
_____________________________________

“I’ve got another appointment in two weeks,” Johnny had said, “So let’s just tell them after that. We can hold up the sonogram as proof if they think it’s an April Fool’s joke.” 

Brent had laughed and agreed. 

Now it was the day of his 12 week appointment and Johnny’s sitting in the waiting room by himself. He looks around and there’s all these—couples. He feels so out of place. He checks his phone, wondering where the hell Seabs is. He was supposed to meet Johnny here from work. 

Just then his phone buzzes. 

_been trying to get signal for 10 minutes, on the fucking train, blue line broke down we’re in the fucking tunnel_

“Shit,” Johnny whispers. 

_alright, keep me updated_

_sorry :(((_ is Seabs’ reply. Johnny can’t help smiling at it. 

_yeah yeah_. 

_Really don’t wanna miss this one_ comes a text about five minutes later. And of course that’s when Johnny’s called in. 

“Brent couldn’t make it?” Dr. Kim asks. Johnny’s impressed he remembered his name. 

“Subway drama,” Johnny replies. He’s still got his phone in his hand, feeling antsy now. He did really want Seabs to be here. They’re gonna look at the kid and shit. 

“That’s too bad,” Dr. Kim says. “Alright, let’s lift your shirt and we’ll have a look at you.” 

Johnny does and Dr. Kim measures his belly. He’s noticed he’s getting a little softer around the middle already, and has put on a few inches in the waist. He’s been working out the past few weeks, though, which makes him feel pretty healthy. 

“Good,” he tells Johnny. “You’re right on track in terms of growth. Open your pants, please, and lie back. We’ll do the sonogram.” 

Johnny does. Dr. Kim squeezes the gel onto his belly and his stomach muscles jump. 

“Sorry if it’s a little cold.” 

“S’okay,” Johnny says, still clenching his phone in his hand. 

He puts the wand on Johnny’s belly, spreading the gel around with it while the monitor next to them comes to life. 

“Watch the screen,” Dr. Kim says. 

Johnny does, blinking at it. “What—” 

Dr. Kim laughs a little, moving the wand around and then bringing one finger up to the monitor. “Right here. See that thing that looks like a peanut?” 

“Yeah,” Johnny breathes out, eyes transfixed. 

“That’s your baby, Jonathan.” 

“Oh,” Johnny replies dumbly. “Uh. Wow.” 

It’s hitting him all over again. That’s his baby. He’s having a baby. 

“It...seems okay?” 

“Yes,” Dr. Kim says. “Strong heartbeat, developing as it should.” 

“Good,” Johnny says, still staring at the screen. “That’s—good.” 

“Would you like printouts of the sonogram?” 

“Yeah,” Johnny says. “Please.” 

Johnny gets a few of them. He’ll send one to his parents, one for Brent , two for himself. By the time he’s done his phone buzzes again. 

_we just started moving. i missed it didn’t i_

_yeah. just meet me at my apartment_ Johnny replies back. 

Brent looks harried when he shows up. 

“So fucking sorry, man,” he says as Johnny lets him in. 

“It’s okay. You want something to drink?” 

“Just water,” he says, following Johnny into the kitchen. 

He opens the fridge and when he closes it and turns around, Brent is staring. 

He walks forward to the refrigerator. “Is that—?” he asks, and Johnny follows his gaze to where he’s already hung up the sonogram on the door.

“Yeah,” Johnny says, smiling. “Yours is right here,” he says, picking up envelope on the counter. Brent’s not taking it from him, though. He’s just staring, face awestruck, finger dragging along the picture. 

“Wow. It’s—wow.”

Johnny laughs, coming to sound next to him. “My thoughts exactly.”

“It looked okay?” Brent asks. 

“That’s what I’ve been told.” 

Brent looks at him, grinning. “Good.” 

“Yeah,” Johnny replies, bumping his shoulder against Brent’s.  
____________________________________________

The next night, they go to the bar. Sure enough, everyone thinks it is indeed an April Fool’s joke until Johnny whips out the printout and everyone stares, passing it around the table. 

“Wait, hold up," Kaner's saying, one finger raised in protest. "Just when the hell did you two screw?" 

Johnny watches Brent down the rest of his beer and hates his fucking guts for the fact that he can drink right now and Johnny can't. He angrily pops a French fry into his mouth. 

"Well, young Jedi," Sharpy is saying, draping his arm around Kaner's shoulder in the booth, "if they just told us he's 12 weeks along, you do the math." 

"Fuck off Sharpy, I mean _how_ did this happen?" 

Sharpy starts sniggering. "Fuck _off_ , Sharpy," both Kaner and Johnny say in unison. 

"You know what I mean, man," Kaner implores Johnny. "Since when are you and Biscuit like that?" 

"Careful, Kaner, you'll start sounding jealous," Duncs pipes up from the other side of him. 

Kaner snorts. "Yeah, right, Tazer wishes." 

"Fuck you, I _wish_ ," Johnny retorts. 

"See? Admits it and everything," Kaner says happily, taking another sip of his beer. His cold, refreshing-looking beer. Johnny's mouth waters. 

"Well!" Seabs exclaims, clapping his hands once. "This is going as good as I expected. Kaner, we aren't 'like that'," he says patiently, throwing air quotes around the last two words. "It's a thing that happened, much like your hair." 

"Shut up," Kaner mutters, never giving as much lip back to Seabs as he will to Johnny. It's kind of hilarious, actually, how he gets a little diminutive around him, like he's worried Seabs will kick his ass. And he easily could, let's be fair. 

"So Tazer's having a baby," Sharpy says, leaning back against the booth, arms stretched out on either side like he owns the joint. “Talk about weird.” 

"What's that supposed to mean," Johnny mutters darkly. 

"It means I can in no way, shape, or form see Mr. 2% Body Fat preggers." 

"Careful, Sharpy, now _you'll_ sound jealous," says Duncs. 

"Nah. I've got it going on the hair department at least. That's more than you can say for these two," Sharpy says, hooking his thumbs at Johnny and Kaner. 

"Jeez, I’m so happy our baby announcement has turned into a vanity contest," Johnny bitches. 

"Hey, I'm happy for you," Sharpy insists. "It’s weird but—cool." 

"Thanks," Johnny says, still a little grumpy. He feels Seabs squeeze his knee under the table, hates the way it instantly grounds him. But that's Seabs. He's a rock for Johnny, always has been. He's hit with an overwhelming relief that it's Seabs this is happening with. 

"Maddy will finally have someone to play with," Sharpy continues. "And hey, Abby could probably give you some tips." 

Johnny makes a face. 

"Happy for you guys, Biscuit," says Duncs, raising his beer. 

"Thanks, buddy." 

Duncs is Seabs' best friend. Johnny would honestly be surprised if he hadn't told him prior to this. They all raise their glasses in cheers. 

"Any weird cravings yet, Tazer?" asks Kaner, smirking. 

"Yeah, I wanna rip that beer out of your fucking hands." 

It isn't until Brent's fingers tighten reflexively on his knee as he laughs that Johnny realizes he hasn’t moved his hand.  
______________________________

Johnny tells Brandon, Nick, and Hilary at work, accepts their congratulations. Things have been the same for the most part. He isn’t really showing yet, he keeps up with his daily routine, takes his vitamins, eats mostly everything he used to. 

He still goes to happy hour, even though he can’t drink. This Friday, though, he’s feeling a little off. He tries to ignore it because he wants to have a good time, but Brent’s already giving him looks. 

“You look a little pale, man.” 

“I’m fine,” Johnny replies. 

“Hey,” Kaner yells as he makes his way back from the bar with another round of beers and Johnny’s ginger ale. “You two up for the club tonight? Been a while.” 

“I don’t think—”

“Yes, definitely—” 

Kaner looks in between them with amusement as Brent and Johnny talk over each other. Johnny gives Brent a look. 

“Why not?” 

“Do you think you should go? Might be a lot.” 

Johnny rolls his eyes. “The doctor said I can do what I used to do. That includes dancing, Biscuit. Not gonna lose the baby from a little grinding.” 

Brent blinks at him. “Oh. You’re gonna be—grinding?” 

“With any luck,” Johnny replies, winking. It’s kind of all for show, though. He doesn’t feel as up to this as he’s letting on, that’s for sure. But he’d also rather not back down. 

Brent bites his lip. “Alright,” he says warily. “If you’re sure.” 

“Yes, I’m sure. So let’s go, eh?” 

“Listen to the man with the baby, dude,” Kaner says to Brent, smirking. 

_________________________

Johnny’s got a hot blonde all up against him and he can’t even properly enjoy it. He feels too hot, and not just from the club itself. His stomach feels a bit queasy and he’s kind of lightheaded. 

He looks past the guy, sees Brent has his own dance partner—except his eyes are on Johnny. 

Johnny raises one eyebrow at him. Brent just shrugs. 

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Bodyguard,” he mouths.

He’d swear Brent blushes a little in embarrassment. Good. Johnny can take care of himself, he’s a grown boy and everything. 

Which is of course when the bile rises from his stomach to his throat and he throws up all over Hot Blonde’s shoes. 

“Oh, man, seriously?!” 

Johnny’s doubled over, gasping a little. The crowd parts a bit as they take in what happened. 

“Sorry,” Johnny says. 

And then he feels a hand on his back. “Johnny, man, you okay?” Brent asks, fingers rubbing in slow circles. 

“Someone can’t hold their liquor,” the guy is saying.

Johnny watches Brent shove him with one hand. “Fuck off, asshole,” he says, before getting an arm around Johnny’s waist and helping him to the bathroom. 

"My hero," Johnny mutters weakly over the toilet, after he’s thrown up everything he possibly can. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Brent says, helping him up. 

They lost Kaner somewhere and Brent texts him from the cab to let him know. 

“Sorry,” Johnny says, eyes closed, head back against the seat. “You could’ve just put me in the cab and stayed.”

“It was dull tonight,” Brent replies. “Don’t worry about it.” 

Johnny hums and keeps his eyes closed the rest of the way. 

He must have dozed off because when he comes too, Seabs is shuffling him out of the cab. 

“Hey, you don’t have to—” Johnny mumbles. 

“Shut your face, Johnny, and move your feet.” 

Johnny chuckles. He leans into Brent as he gets them in the elevator and to his door. 

“You need anything?” Brent asks, after he guides Johnny to the bedroom, with Johnny protesting the whole time. 

“Just some water, man. And then you can go, seriously, this is too much.” 

Brent makes a face. “Be right back.” 

The next thing Johnny knows he’s waking up to a bottle of water by his bed and his body under the blankets. And then he’s tossing them aside and rushing to the bathroom to throw up all over again. 

The next week basically sucks. He can’t hardly keep anything down. He misses days from work. Brent comes over one night for a Hawks game because Johnny’s actually not throwing up. 

“Morning sickness my ass, buddy,” Johnny says, handing him the bag of potato chips after taking one for himself. He should be able to have a damn chip. “More like everytime sickness.” 

Brent looks him up and down. “You look—thinner, man. That can’t be good.” 

Johnny shrugs. “Seeing the doc next week, so we’ll see.” 

Brent frowns and starts doing something on his phone while Johnny watches TV. 

“Hey, so,” Brent says during a commercial break. “Do you have any saltines in the house?” 

“Somewhere, maybe?” 

“Well, those could help with it. And uh, peppermint oil and ginger tea…shit like that.” 

Johnny’s torn between irritation and utter fondness. One corner of his mouth quirks up. “Okay, Seabsie. Let’s just the watch the game, eh?” 

The next day Johnny buys peppermint oil and ginger tea and—feels a bit better. 

The guys go bowling for Seabs’ birthday the next night. Johnny gets him tickets to the Hawks, of course. Like he does every year. Brent usually ends up taking him, so it’s a win-win. 

Johnny isn’t into bowling on a good day, so he just sits and watches. His eyes unwittingly catch on Brent’s ass as he throws the ball down the lane. He certainly hasn’t been horny with the way he’s been feeling lately, and he honestly can’t remember the last time he jerked off, but he can’t help but remember the way Brent’s ass had felt beneath his palms. The back of his neck feel like it’s on fire. 

Brent turns then and gives everyone a thumbs up. He’s wearing a ridiculous “Birthday Boy” hat. His eyes shine as he meets Johnny’s gaze. Johnny swallows hard and looks away. 

____________________________________

It’s Johnny’s birthday the following week and he hasn’t thrown up for four days straight. It’s a miracle.

 _we have to celebrate then_ is what Brent ‘s response was to Johnny’s text of _four days and counting!_

He’s not really expecting Seabs to tell him to get dressed up and that they’re going out to Johnny’s favorite restaurant, which is a fancy steak joint that he only really ever goes to if he’s a) on a date or b) his parents are in town. 

_consider it a thanks for being born/having my baby combined gift_

So of course the morning sickness (honestly, fuck that inaccurate term, Johnny’s sick day or night) rears its ugly head again as Johnny’s trying to fit into his pair of dress slacks. 

By the time Brent knocks on the door, Johnny’s thrown up twice and ditched the dress pants for sweats. 

“Sorry,” Johnny rasps, taking in how good Brent looks in a blazer, dark blue shirt and black pants. “I would’ve texted but I had a date with a toilet.”

Brent’s eyes betray the barest bit of disappointment before he ruffles his hair. “Want me to go?” 

Johnny shakes his head. “You can stay if you want.” 

“Sure,” Brent says, stepping inside and shedding his blazer. “We’ll adjust, man.” He hands Johnny a card. “Happy Birthday.”

Johnny laughs weakly. “Thanks.” 

‘Adjusting’ means Seabs cooking them both ramen and putting on _Gladiator_ (Johnny’s favorite movie) and rubbing his shoulders. 

“Wow, man,” Johnny drawls, pressing into the touch. “All I had to do was have your kid to get pampered like this?” 

Brent flicks at Johnny’s ear with his finger. “Yeah, that’s all you had to do.” 

Johnny giggles and keeps his eyes on the movie, trying not to focus too hard on the feel of Seabs’ hands on him. 

Seabs’ card is super sappy and ridiculous and by the time he leaves, Johnny’s stomach feels fine and he’s decided it’s one of his favorite birthdays yet, even though nothing happened. 

He vaguely wants to jerk off, get at least _some_ birthday action, but he falls asleep before he can even get started. 

______________________________________

Month Four

Johnny jerks off for the first time in forever. He does it in the shower, looking down at his stomach and the definite bump that’s formed there now. It’s weird, the way his forearm brushes against his belly as he works his cock in his hand. He doesn’t really think of anything at all, just closes his eyes and feels the sensations. He bites his lip as he comes, sagging back against the wall and breathing hard. 

He heads to the gym after breakfast and his buddies there who he hadn’t said anything to absolutely notice his soft, round belly. 

“Can’t stay away from the sweets, Johnny?” Marian jokes. 

“Nah, that’s you and those Kit-Kats, Hoss.” 

But he decides to spill the beans, accepts the congratulations. He’s super sore afterwards, though. And he’s never sore after his workouts. There’s this pain in his side that simply won’t go away. When it goes on for more than a day, Johnny calls the doctor. They get him in and he’s told it’s just his ligaments stretching and his belly expanding. 

“Oh,” he says, feeling like a moron. 

He tells Seabs when they’re at happy hour that week. 

“You should’ve told me, I’d have gone with you,” he says, looking almost—hurt. 

Johnny shakes his head. “It was fine. And it really was. Just me losing my girlish figure.” 

Sharpy laughs loudly from across the table. “Don’t you love when Tazer makes fun of himself so I don’t have to?” 

“Fuck off,” Johnny replies. 

Abby got a sitter tonight, so she’s there and she and Johnny talk a lot about what else he can expect now, the aches and pains now that his body is changing.

“It may be a little different and all, but call me whenever you want, Jon. I’ll talk you through things,” Abby says at the end of the night, hugging him. 

“Thanks, babe,” Johnny says. When he meets Brent’s eyes again, he’s got that same near-hurt expression. 

“What?” Johnny asks, nudging his shoulder when it’s just the two of them left. 

“Nothing,” Brent says, finishing off the rest of his beer. 

“Fuck you, nothing,” Johnny scoffs. “What?” 

“Just wanna be able to help with shit more, I guess. Feels like I’m not even—here, sometimes. Or doing anything.” 

Johnny rolls his eyes even as his heart swells. “Not too much _to_ do, Seabsie. Trust me, when this kid is crying at 3am, I’ll be calling your ass to do something.”

Brent laughs, but he still looks kind of off. 

“Seriously, man,” Johnny says, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just—don’t worry so much. You should’ve gone out with Kaner tonight, man. You didn’t need to hang around.”

“It’s fine,” Brent says, “I don’t mind.” 

Johnny smiles, a fondness pulling at him. 

Brent smiles back. 

“Hey,” Johnny says, clearing his throat. “You wanna come to the next checkup? Could ask them to do a sonogram so you can see it this time.” 

“I’d like that, Johnny.” 

______________________________

Brent goes with him to his 20 week visit. They do the standard measurements, listening to the heartbeat. Brent sees the sonogram in action for the first time, his eyes glued to the monitor. 

“Did you want to know the baby’s sex?” Dr. Kim asks. 

“Oh,” Johnny looks at Brent. “Uh, I don’t think so. You?” 

Brent shakes his head. “Nah, I like the surprise.” 

They go out to lunch after. “We should talk about names,” Brent says around his burger. 

Johnny can’t even stomach red meat right now. Also the smell of vanilla makes him want to vomit. That all started last month. Hello, aversions. “Hmm,” Johnny says, taking a bite of his grilled chicken portobello sandwich. “What are you thinking?” 

“Don’t really know. Anything stick out to you?” 

“I like Chloe for a girl,” Johnny admits. 

Brent rolls his eyes fondly. “You and your French, Tazer.” 

“What do _you_ like?” 

“Nah, I like that. I also like Megan.” 

“Chloe Megan Seabrook Toews. That’s a mouthful.” 

“We don’t _have_ to use both names.” 

“Okay, whatever, let’s do boys.” 

Brent snorts. “We already do boys.” 

“Oh my god,” Johnny groans. “You’re the child sometimes, Seabrook. Get it together, you’re gonna be a dad.” 

Brent laughs. “Alright, alright. Um. I like Adam?” 

“Not bad,” Johnny says. “I’ve had Jeremy in my head for some reason.” 

Seabs makes a face. “Let’s not. Sharpy will just sing Pearl Jam to him for the rest of his life.” 

“Ah, shit, you’re right.” 

“Any others?” Seabs asks. 

“Wesley,” Johnny says. 

“You and _The Princess Bride_ , man.” 

“Fuck you, you love it.” 

“As you wish,” Brent says.

Johnny flips him off. 

He’s not sure they’re any closer to picking names, but it feels good to talk about. 

______________________________________

Month Five

Johnny’s been more tired this month, and really, really fucking cranky. He snapped at Brandon at work the other day for no reason and then felt shitty about it. His hormones are starting to pick up in terms of mood swings and general—neediness. He’s not used to feeling so out of sorts. He calls his mom, calls Dan, just needing to hear their voices. He’s not up to going out when Friday rolls around, but he also wasn’t looking forward to being alone. 

Therefore he’s pretty shocked when Brent shows up at his door with a gallon of ice cream in one hand and the second season of Mad Men in the other. 

“We talked about this, man,” Johnny says, shaking his head at Seabs as if he isn’t ridiculously grateful to see him. 

“I’d rather look at Don Draper’s face than the ugly mugs of our friends.” 

Johnny snorts and lets him in. They sit next to one another on the couch and eat ice cream in near darkness, the streetlights through the window the only brightness besides the TV. 

Brent’s warm and solid against him and Johnny can’t help but lean into the touch, his eyes drifting shut. 

He must doze off because when he blinks his eyes open again it’s to the feel of Seabs’ fingers absently running through his hair. It feels nice, relaxing. Johnny can’t help but close his eyes again. Brent’s fingers card through his hair again and again and Johnny’s just about to let out a soft sound when he feels Brent’s lips on his skin, brushing just over his temple. 

He goes stock still. It feels so good, even better than Brent’s hands still gently moving over his scalp; it’s comforting. But it also sends a jolt of want through him, more than he’s felt in a while. 

Johnny lets himself burrow into the touch, the sensations. “Feels nice,” he murmurs. 

"Sorry," Brent says, voice a little scratchy. "Thought you were still sleeping. Didn’t mean to—”

He makes to pull away, but Johnny just burrows even closer and says, "Don't you dare stop."

"Heh," Brent chuckles, moving back to where he was: Johnny's head on his shoulder, Brent's fingers combing slowly through his hair, his lips just barely grazing his forehead. "Alright, you're the captain of this ship." 

"So our baby's a boat now?" Johnny says, unimpressed. 

Brent chuckles again. "Yeah. We'll name it the Sloop John B." 

"We're not naming our kid after a Beach Boys song," Johnny says through a yawn. 

"Why not? Got your name in it and everything." 

"Swing and a miss, buddy," Johnny murmurs, nosing against Brent’s neck. He closes his eyes again at the soft, methodical feel of Brent's fingers through his hair, nails gently scratching along his scalp. He had no idea how much he’d been craving contact like this. "Sorry for falling asleep on you. Uh, literally," Johnny says, yawning again. 

Brent snorts. "It's fine, kid. You were tired." His lips brush Johnny's forehead as he speaks, the warm dry press of them making him shiver. 

"Thanks for coming over tonight," Johnny says, quiet. "Been feeling kind of out of it. It’s, uh, nice. Having you here," he admits, lifting his head from Brent's shoulder.

Their gazes catch, and Johnny tries really hard not to let his eyes drop to Brent's mouth.

He can feel his heart pounding in his ears.

"Nowhere else important to be, kid," Brent says, voice just as soft. Johnny's heart rate kicks up at the honesty on Brent's face, and then his lips do drop to his mouth. Brent's own track the movement and he leans in again, presses his lips to Johnny's hairline. Johnny’s eyes flutter shut and he breathes in deep, hand clenched beside him on the couch cushion. 

When he opens them again, Brent is staring at him, his lips parted slightly. 

"You good?" Brent asks, voice sounding rougher than it was a minute ago. 

Johnny doesn't trust himself to speak. His dick is stiffening up pretty good against his own thigh, now. His cheeks are probably a nice shade of pink too. Knowing his luck, Seabs will think he's got a fever and Johnny will have to explain, 'nope, just out of control raging hormones apparently.' 

So he just nods instead, licking his too-dry lips. 

Brent nods in return, leaning in again and kissing his brow. His lips feel like fire on Johnny's already warm skin. 

Brent pulls back an inch before ducking to rest their foreheads together, the sides of their noses pressed up against each other. "Think I'll get going, kid," he murmurs, breath fanning against Johnny's cheek.

"Okay," Johnny sighs, their lips inches apart. He feels like he's suffocating from the thickness in the air around them, the tension undeniable, palpable. 

"Okay," Brent repeats, lips sliding along Johnny's cheekbone. 

Johnny’s eyes drift shut again, lids heavy with want. "Alright," he says. His heart is pounding so hard he's sure Brent can hear it, his body thrumming from head to toe.

"Alright," Brent parrots back, nonsensical. His lips drag lower, to the corner of Johnny’s mouth. Johnny moves his head the inch it needs and then they're kissing, Brent lips soft and pliant against Johnny’s own. He places a delicate kiss to the center of Johnny’s mouth, one that could almost be considered as chaste as the others he's bestowed tonight, before pressing in firmer. 

Johnny's breathing hard, head resting against the back of the sofa, body slouched, Brent pressed up along his side. Brent's lips part, his bottom one falling beneath Johnny’s. Johnny tightens his grip on the couch cushion, his cock jerking hard in his jeans. He lets out a soft moan as Brent's tongue darts between his lips before licking hotly into Johnny’s mouth with quick, practiced flicks. 

Johnny gasps into the kiss and it’s only then that he notices the quiet of the room around them. The loud sounds of their rapid breathing and wet noises of their mouths echo in the silence. It feels like there's thunder roaring in his ears as he meets Brent's tongue with his own, curling around it before licking deep into Brent’s mouth, swiping behind his teeth and along the roof.

Johnny loses track of how long they trade deep, wet, shivery-good kisses. Long enough for Brent’s facial hair make his cheeks feel raw. Long enough for his lips to feel swollen and his jaw to twinge. It isn’t until Brent lets out a sharp, needy sound that it breaks through the fog in Johnny’s mind, makes him get a hand on Brent's chest to push him back. He opens his eyes, panting, and dares a look at Brent, his own eyes wide, his lips shiny and red.

"Fuck, Seabsie-boy, sorry. Shouldn't have..." Johnny trails off, trying to steady his rapidly beating heart.

Seabs blinks at him before pulling back to drag a hand through his hair. "No, hey, it’s uh. Crazy hormones, eh?"

Johnny bites his lip, nodding. Right. That's all that was, obviously. Because last time—well, that was just a one time deal and it’s not like it would happen again like that and it’s not like it would happen as anything—

Yeah, no. 

Johnny laughs, rueful. "Definitely."

Seabs ruffles his hair, smiling crookedly. It’s nothing like the sweet, gentle strokes from earlier. Instead, it’s tragically brotherly. "No worries, kid." 

Brent stands up and Johnny forces himself not to look down to see if he's hard. "Gonna split. Get some sleep."

"Yeah," Johnny says. He doesn’t move from the couch till long after he hears the door close.

Johnny finally gets himself into the bedroom, his cock still aching, arousal not having dissipated one bit. He undresses quickly, throwing his clothes onto the floor and pushing the comforter to the foot of the bed, climbing onto his sheets. He’s big enough now where he’d rather do this on his hands and knees, so he does, bracing one hand on bed while the other strips his cock without preamble, tight and fast from the get-go. 

He’s leaking into his hand, panting open-mouthed, tonguing his own bicep. He feels his orgasm build at the base of his spine, feels his balls tighten and his thighs quake. 

“Brent,” he chokes out on a moan. “Oh god, Seabs. Fuck, _fuck_.” 

He comes hard, thick ribbons of white coating his fingers, the swell of his belly, the sheets. He hasn’t jerked off in at least a month, hadn’t had one ounce of a sex drive. Until tonight. Until _Brent_. 

Johnny wonders if it really was just hormones. If he would’ve been ready to go off like a shot if any guy had put their lips on his temple and stroked his hair tonight. 

He really doesn’t think so, is the thing.

And that’s kind of a terrifying thought.  
_____________________________________

Johnny barely sleeps, too lost in his own thoughts and too keyed up even after his orgasm. He feels like he didn’t even come, honestly, his body still buzzing. He wants to be fucked, wants to be taken over and used and put away raw and wet. He doesn’t even want to attempt to get his dildo out, though. His muscles ache just thinking about the maneuvering he’d have to do, the awkward angle in which he’d have to keep his wrist. He wishes someone could just do it for him. Unbidden, his mind conjures up Seabs between his legs, thumbing Johnny’s hole, slowly sliding the dildo inside, telling him how hot he looks like that. 

Johnny snorts to himself. Yeah, fat chance. Like Seabs would even want him like this, tonight’s momentary lapse of reason aside. He’s bloated and gassy and unstable on his feet, still not used to this shift of gravity based on his new body structure. 

Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop Johnny from wanting it or feeling a little out of control with lust. He can’t help it. Can’t stop thinking about Brent, about his mouth, about his dick. Johnny works himself up enough to come again, this time barely touching himself. He manages to clean up before flopping back down, exhausted but unable to sleep. He rubs his belly, feeling a tiny jerk. 

“Oh, shit,” he breathes. It’s the first movement he’s felt, the doctor telling him at the last visit that it could start happen this month. 

“You’re up too, eh, buddy?” he says in French, because his mom said speaking another language, even while in the womb, is helpful. “Hope you weren’t watching me do all that just now.” 

Johnny sighs, cupping his hands over either side of his stomach, and stares up at the ceiling as the hours tick by.  
________________________

He isn’t feeling any less restless in the morning, and realizes a lot has to do with—making sure nothing is fucked up between him and Seabs. Their friendship has always been important, but now it’s almost vital. There’s more to think about, and he doesn’t want hormones to jeopardise what they’re doing here. 

Seabs is always up pretty early on Saturdays, Johnny knows. And he’s coaching his basketball game around noon. Johnny figures he’ll go over, bring Seabs coffee and maybe go out to breakfast before the game. 

What he isn’t expecting is for Seabs to open his door, take one look at Johnny, and grow stricken. And for the apparent reason for that stricken look to be a dude walking half naked into the living room, asking Seabs, “Hey, have you seen my shirt?” 

“Um,” Johnny says, blinking between the guy and Brent.

“What are you doing here?” Seabs half whispers to Johnny. 

Johnny holds up the coffee cup, feeling a little numb. And—ill. Great, perfect time for a bout of morning sickness. Maybe he can puke all over this guy’s toned chest. Toned chest like _Johnny_ used to have. He feels a flood of bitterness. “Coffee,” he says flatly. “Breakfast… Sorry, I’ll just—” 

“No, don’t,” Brent says, grabbing hold of Johnny’s arm. 

“Uh, am I interrupting something?” the dude is saying, looking pointedly between them and then down to Johnny’s stomach. 

“No, it’s not like that,” Johnny says. But when he glances up at Brent he sees a flash of hurt in his eyes, like Johnny’s implying this isn’t his kid and it physically pains him. Johnny’s mouth twists. “Okay, it _is_ like that, but not—”

The guy raises his hands in front of him. “Hey, don’t really need to know all the dirty laundry. I was just leaving.” 

They stand there awkwardly while the guy locates his shirt and then he’s stepping up to Brent at the door and leaning in for a quick kiss. “That was fun.” Then he looks at Johnny. “Hey, good luck, man.” 

“Thanks,” Johnny says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. 

Once the door is closed, Seabs leans on his side against it. “Sorry about that,” he says, fingers dragging through his sleep rumpled hair. He looks… well-fucked. Johnny’s seen him like that. Done that to him. His stomach rolls even as his cheeks heat. 

He holds out the coffee dumbly again, and Brent finally takes it. He scratches the mole behind his ear. “My fault, man,” Johnny says. “Uh, should’ve just texted.” 

Brent shakes his head, biting his lip. “Johnny, man… last night—” he starts and Johnny holds his breath. “We’re okay, right?” 

“Absolutely.”

Brent’s eying him, like he’s seeking something out. “Because, you know. The first time—we didn’t make it weird and I don’t want to fuck this up now.” 

“We’re cool, I’m cool,” Johnny reassures, except he’s kind of not. His emotions are all over the place and he’s not even sure why. “Just feeling a little needy and shit lately, buddy, it’s fine.” 

“What do you need?” Brent says quietly. 

Johnny shakes his head to himself, biting his lip. Why the fuck does he feel like he’s about to cry, jesus christ. What is even happening in his body right now? 

“I don’t wanna overstep my bounds, man,” Brent’s saying.

Johnny shakes his head again and moves in, steps into Brent’s space. “Just need this right now,” he says thickly, as Brent’s arms wrap around him. 

“Alright. Whatever you want, Johnny,” Brent says against his hair. 

He feels better than he did a moment ago, but still kind of fraught. “Hate this shit. Not used to feeling like this.” 

“I know,” Seabs says, hands strong around his back. “But you’re still you, buddy.” 

Johnny laughs a little bitterly. “Sure as fuck doesn’t feel like it.” 

Brent’s fingers press in firm, splayed against the center of his back. “C’mon, let’s get some IHOP.” 

Johnny moves away, before he just stays there forever. It’s temping. 

“Yeah,” he says, smiling weakly. “That’d be good.” 

Breakfast goes well, with Johnny feeling a bit more grounded, but they don’t talk about Seabs’ hook-up. It’s something they used to do all the time, excited to share their escapades with one another. It’s the kind of friends they always were, and now it feels like there’s a gigantic elephant in the room. Just the thought of details, though, makes Johnny’s stomach roll again. 

So, maybe not morning sickness after all.  
____________________________________

Month Six

The baby’s been moving a lot the past month. Kicking the hell out of Johnny, sometimes all day, every day. And so when an entire day goes by that he doesn’t feel the kid move at all, he starts freaking out. He’s up most of the night, feeling just—really off. He drinks some orange juice and waits. 

Nothing. 

He pushes at his belly and waits. 

Nothing. 

At some point he passes out and when he wakes up he knows he’s not going into work. He calls Brent around 8am. He’s already at work. 

“I don’t know what to do, man, I’m freaking here.” 

“Calm down, Johnny. Breathe, okay?” 

Johnny nods even though Brent can’t see him. “Just—take a few deep breaths and call the doc.” 

“Alright,” Johnny says. “Thanks, Seabsie.” 

“Text me with what happens.” 

He calls Dr. Kim’s office and they tell him to come in for monitoring. Johnny’s a wreck the entire way there. He takes a cab, not wanting to deal with being jostled on the subway. He tells Brent he’s going.

 _i’ll meet you there_ Brent replies. 

Johnny frowns down at his phone. _no, dude, you’re at work_

_whatever, i’ll be there_

Johnny just tries to breathe. 

They get him hooked up the monitors and there’s the baby’s heartbeat, beating away, the greatest sound Johnny’s ever heard. 

“You’re fine, Jon. Everything’s alright,” Dr. Kim says. 

Johnny nods, and then of course he gets kicked hard in the ribs. 

Relief washes over him, welling up inside him until tears are gathering at the corners of his eyes, threatening to spill over. 

Naturally, that’s the moment Brent bursts into the room, looking like a man on a mission. His eyes land on Johnny’s just as he’s wiping his eyes and Brent’s face crumples. 

“Oh, god, what—?” 

“Everything’s perfectly fine, Brent,” Dr. Kim says, ever calm and together. 

Johnny nods, sniffling a little. 

“Jesus,” Brent says, coming over to Johnny and putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“You two are all set to go.”

Brent squeezes his shoulder and Johnny exhales. 

Brent hails them a cab and they head back to Johnny’s place. “I took the day off already. Can just hang if you want? Kick your ass in Mario Kart,” Brent says when they’re standing in Johnny’s doorway. 

“Yeah, sure,” Johnny says, too drained to even take the bait. He’s eying the couch, seeing images of the two of them tangled up in each other there. He’s got to stop with this.

____________________________________

Month Seven

Around the 34 week mark, Dr. Kim decides he should be put on light bedrest. It’s August now and he’s been having a hard time with the heat lately. Feeling really run down and light-headed. 

Johnny’s pretty upset about it. He prides himself on being independent and doesn’t want anyone to have to help him. And he hates missing work. He’s already upped Brandon’s pay for all the extra responsibilities he’s taken on. 

His parents are able to take a week’s vacation to come down and visit, seeing him first time seeing him since this started. His mom makes dinner and she has him invite Brent over. It’s mildly awkward, but not too terrible. Dan and Davey come for a few days after that and Johnny’s happy to see everyone, but he also feels bad to have people fuss over him. By the time they leave, Johnny’s basically climbing the walls, not having gotten out of the house much. Brent’s been pretty awesome, bringing him his favorite smoothies and going to Johnny’s own cafe to bring him the tomato and mozzarella panini he loves. He’s done Johnny’s laundry and loaded the dishwasher while Johnny rinsed. 

It’s all very domestic and as much as Johnny likes his independence, he can’t deny that he likes having Brent around. 

Something’s irrevocably shifted in his own mind and, worse, his heart. He knows there’s really no going back at this point. It’s just a matter of dealing. 

Johnny wasn’t planning on seeing Seabs tonight. Was lounging in his sweatpants and old, ratty t-shirt, his AC cranked up in the house, when Seabs had texted _you, me, and Vikings? I’ll bring pizza._

They finish dinner, and Johnny’s feeling full and satisfied and, for once, not bloated. Still, his stomach is massive as he slouches on the couch, resting one hand on it. 

He can feel Seabs’ eyes on it out of his periphery. He lets it go for a few moments, until it starts to make his skin itch. 

“What’s up, man?” Johnny asks, turning his head to look at him. 

Brent’s cheeks color a little. “Just, uh, realizing I haven’t actually—felt the baby. Yet.” 

“Oh,” Johnny says, suddenly feeling overheated. Which is ridiculous, it’s like an ice cube in here. “Huh.” He hadn’t realized that, actually. Even people who come into his store ask to feel his belly. 

"Can I?" Brent asks, all tentative. 

Johnny just shrugs, thinking whatever, it won’t be a big dea. But he’s pretty great at lying to himself when it’s convenient, and the second Brent’s hands are on him, he remembers them moving over him in very different ways. The way they ran up his back, fitted along his hip bones (when he actually had cut hipbones and not this wide figure he’s now rocking). Brent’s hands were hot and fervent and desperate then— when the both of them couldn’t stop touching one another, couldn’t stop kissing. 

Now, though, now they’re—slow and hesitant, gentle. Johnny’s shirt is rucked up near his neck, Brent mapping the swell of his belly, his finger dipping into the tight, stretched skin over his belly button, making Johnny giggle and bat at his arm. 

"Dick.” 

Brent grins up at him, eyes shining with—Johnny doesn’t know what. He doesn’t have a chance to find out, because his eyes are back on Johnny’s belly, watching his own hands. Johnny’s breathing starts to pick up, his heart fluttering in his chest. 

"That’s our kid," Brent whispers, cupping his palm protectively over the center of Johnny’s stomach. 

"Yeah," Johnny says, voice a lot rougher than he intended it to come out. 

“Has it been kicking today?” 

“Yeah, but not since before I started eating.” 

“Hmm,” Brent hums. “Wanna feel it.” 

“Keep, uh. Rubbing. Small circles.” 

Brent does and Johnny—god, Johnny’s body starts tingling, all the way to his toes. 

"Can I—" Brent starts, eyes darting up to Johnny. 

"What?" Johnny asks, feeling instantly breathless, like the air’s been sucked out of the room. 

"Can I kiss it?"

Johnny’s lips part, his heart pounding now. “Um. Yeah, uh, go for it.” 

He’s a masochist, he really is. 

Brent’s answering smile is a soft, gorgeous thing. He bends down, lips hovering right above Johnny’s belly.

“Hey, baby,” he whispers. “It’s your dad.” And then his lips are on Johnny’s belly, pressing firmly, wet and plush and—fuck, Johnny’s dick snaps to attention. 

Brent’s lips move slowly, tracing a line up and down, right over his belly button and back again, peppering kisses over his skin. His breath is burning hot against Johnny, which might explain why Johnny suddenly feels like he’s burning up. 

His cock is full and thick now, starting to tent his sweatpants. It’s not his first erection of his pregnancy, but it’s by far the most insistent. Johnny doesn’t even attempt to blame out of whack hormones this time around, like that night on the couch. He simply can’t, not when all he’s thinking about is the way he rode Brent’s dick during their night together, the way Brent raised him up and down, the way they laughed into each other’s mouths when he slipped out at one point before Johnny had to press him back inside. 

Johnny’s head falls back against the couch cushion and he squeezes his eyes shut. His legs part a little and his breathing hitches as Brent—starts rubbing his thigh, the kisses turning hot and open-mouthed. 

"Seabs," Johnny chokes out. He doesn’t know if it’s a plea or a warning. 

"Jon," Brent breathes, and Johnny has to look down, see the way he’s got his forehead resting on Johnny’s hard belly, the way his own breaths are coming hard and fast. “Tell me this is okay. Tell me you want—” 

"Oh, fuck," Johnny groans, fisting his hand in Brent’s hair and trying to jerk his hips upward, hoping his actions speak loud enough. Brent’s eyes meet his, dark and wild. He licks his lips and then puts them back on Johnny’s belly, his hand moving from his thigh directly over Johnny’s cock, rubbing with the palm of his hand. Johnny nearly sighs in relief. 

"Oh, jesus christ," Johnny gasps, his entire body thrumming like a live wire. He’s not sure he’s ever felt this turned on in his life, going from zero to sixty in record time, and he needs—god, he needs. "Suck me," he whispers, licking his suddenly too-dry lips. "Please." 

He hears Brent let out a soft groan, his hand gripping Johnny firmly through his sweats and jerking him off roughly before his lips and hand are gone. Johnny’s head had fallen back again but it jerks forward to look at Brent, to watch him scramble between Johnny’s legs, parting them even further and settling on his knees between them. 

"Up," Brent whispers, tapping Johnny’s hip lightly. Johnny raises them just enough so Brent can pull his sweatpants down his thighs, his cock springing forward. He was just lazing around today and had no interest in wearing any underwear. Brent came over at the last moment and there was no way in hell Johnny was gonna try to get his damn pants off and then put them back on. His balance was shot to shit lately anyway. He supposes it was a fortuitous decision, in the end. 

"Fuck," Brent whispers, and that’s—yeah, that sounds like the fervent want from Brent that he heard that night, over seven months ago. Brent’s hands drag up and down his thighs, rough and quick, before one circles the base of his cock and licks up it. 

"Oh, shit," Johnny says, blinking down at him, staring as Brent’s tongue laps at the head before sliding down, perfect and tight and hot. Johnny groans, tilting his head back again, one hand up to brush over his nipples that always seem hard lately. They’re so fucking sensitive right now, and Johnny gasps as he rolls one between his thumb and index finger. 

Brent’s sucking him harder, faster, the hand that was kneading his thigh now back on his belly, rubbing his palm in slow, languid circles. He pulls off with a gasp, nuzzling his cheek against Johnny’s dick. Johnny hisses at the feel of his beard against his dick, the scratch of the whiskers so fucking good. 

"Look at you," Brent rasps, hand leaving the base of Johnny’s dick to join his other on his belly, palming up and down the stretched skin with intent while his lips dip lower to mouth at Johnny’s balls. "Carrying our kid. Fucking gorgeous, Johnny. Turn me on so much." 

"Brent," Johnny gasps, trying to reach forward to run his fingers through his hair but gravity not cooperating. “Seabsie,” he whines. 

Brent ignores him, just inches his mouth lower, over Johnny’s hole. 

"Oh my _god_ ,” Johnny cries out, his feet slipping from where they’re on the floor, his knees trembling. 

"Gonna make you come," Brent says urgently. "Gonna make you come so hard, baby."

Johnny bites down on his bottom lip and tastes blood. Brent’s hands leave his belly and Johnny immediately mourns the loss, until they return to his dick. Brent fists him with both large hands, alternating the twist and stroke of them while he laps at his hole. Johnny’s practically sliding off the couch now, his tailbone barely on the cushion, his feet scrambling for purchase on the floor as Brent completely takes him apart with his mouth and hands.

Johnny palms his own belly, feels a jerk. 

"Oh, god, Brent," Johnny groans. "A—it kicked. Felt it." 

Johnny hears a moan vibrate around where Brent’s tongue is lapping at him and then suddenly Brent’s tongue-fucking him harder, moves his hands faster until Johnny’s thrashing his head back and forth against the back of the couch, and gasping out his orgasm. He looks down in time to watch Brent move up to where his dick is spurting and suckle the head, while sliding one finger inside Johnny’s ass.

"Oh, fuuuuuuuuuck," Johnny moans, body twitching, ass clenching around Brent’s finger as he comes and comes.

"Shit," he hears Brent whisper, his tongue still swiping at Johnny’s dick, sliding down the shaft, shifting upward to lick at the come that hit his torso. 

He eases his finger out, brushes his fingers up and down Johnny’s trembling thighs, resting his head against his hip. 

Johnny’s gasping, watching Brent suck in lungfuls of air himself. His heart nearly trips over itself when Brent slowly drags his mouth over Johnny’s belly, kissing and licking the come that spilled there. 

"Sorry, baby," Brent says quietly, and it takes Johnny a moment to realize he means their kid. 

He laughs, a little hysterically. “Oh my god, stop,” he chokes out. 

Brent looks up, eyes dancing with amusement, but Johnny can also see the hazy want and arousal there. It makes him swallow. 

"Did you, uh," Johnny asks, nodding down at Brent’s dick. 

Brent flushes, presses another kiss to his stomach. “Um. No.”  


Johnny watches Brent adjust himself in his jeans. 

He bites his lip, nodding. "Come to uh, come to my bedroom?"

Brent’s eyes widen, expression so adorably sweet and fuck, fuck, Johnny loves the shit outta him. 

“Yeah?” 

"Yeah," Johnny whispers. "Please." He reaches his hand out. Brent takes it immediately, squeezing. 

"Sure," Brent says. He sounds—as happy as Johnny feels. "I mean, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t fall over." 

Johnny kicks him in the back of the leg. “Asshole. You’re brushing your teeth before I let you kiss me.”

Brent smiles up at him, mouthing his way up his stomach before sitting beside Johnny and burying his face in his neck. “Whatever you want, Jon.” 

Johnny wants—a lot, he realizes. But he’s beginning to think Brent’s right there with him.  
_________________________________________

Month Eight

“I’m not supposed to tell you this,” Brent says as Johnny’s jerking him off. It’s six in the morning and Brent’s got to get ready for work soon. He’s been spending the night kind of regularly since they slept together again. They haven’t officially—talked about this, not in any sort of detail. Except for Johnny to tell him it’s not hormones and for Brent to tell him it’s not some one-time deal. And for them to both admit they… really wanted each other that night they kissed on the couch a few months ago. Alright, so maybe they _had_ talked about it, but all that stuff had been said while they were gasping into each other’s mouths, desperate to come. Johnny didn’t exactly count that as an adult, serious conversation or anything. 

“Tell me what?” Johnny asks, licking at the swell of Brent’s bottom lip and jerking him harder, while rolling his balls with his other hand. 

“Oh, god, yeah. Like that,” Brent gasps, closing his lips around the hinge of his jaw. “Uh, Kaner and Duncs are throwing us a baby shower this weekend.” 

“Oh, jeez,” Johnny mutters, flicking his wrist up angrily. 

Brent comes. 

Davey and Dan fly in for it. They’re part of the “plan” actually, telling Brent and Johnny that they’re taking them to a cool new restaurant. Of course, Sharpy ended up spilling the beans to Brent. 

So they’re led into a place, being lead to believe they’re going for some awesome Sunday brunch, which—they are, it’s just a baby shower brunch in a private room. Everything’s done up in Winnipeg Jets and Vancouver Canucks colors, Johnny and Seabs’ favorite childhood hockey teams, respectively. 

Johnny’s so embarrassed he puts his hands over his face as he enters. He hates being the center of attention or people making a fuss over him. Still, he can’t deny it was a sweet gesture. 

Brent’s eating the whole thing up. There’s a wishing well and dumb games (Johnny’s fucking mortified by Sharpy’s candy bar diaper game. He also may vomit. Seabs loves it). 

Abby collects all the bows and ribbons as they open the gifts to make a hat for Johnny to wear. Johnny starts tearing up at the tiny mittens and shoes and hats people are giving them. Everything’s just so—small. 

“Sap,” Brent whispers to him, kissing his temple and grabbing his hand. 

They haven’t told anyone yet, that they’re—together now. Taking things as slow as they can on that front, but with the way they’ve been today, touchy feely like crazy, Johnny would be shocked if everyone hadn’t already figured it out. 

Sure enough, at the end of the party, Dan puts an arm around his shoulder. “You happy, Johnny?” 

Johnny doesn’t even have to ask what he means. 

“Yeah, man. Really am.” 

Dan gives him a noogie. “Good.” 

Johnny’s still mostly on bed rest, so he hasn’t been out with the guys really. When Brent goes the following week, he texts him from the bar. 

_our secret is out_

_don’t u dare give them any details_ Johnny responds. 

_I don’t kiss and tell, baby ;)_

_how about just kiss, then? get your ass back here_

_on my way_ Seabs replies.  
__________________________________

They’ve been making out for at least five minutes now, Brent’s leg between his so Johnny can feel how hard he is. He sighs into Brent’s mouth, nips at his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth. Brent moans and rubs himself against Johnny’s thigh, palming his ass over his sweatpants. When he dips beneath, dragging his finger over Johnny’s hole, he knows exactly what he wants. 

He wrenches his mouth away, gasping against Brent’s ear. “Fuck me.” 

Brent’s hands still and Johnny feels a hot puff of breath against his jaw. “Shit. You sure?” 

Johnny rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure.” He kisses up behind Brent’s ear, teeth grazing the lobe. “C’mon, Seabs. Wanna feel you.” 

“But—” Brent says, dragging his palm from Johnny’s ass to his belly, fingers splayed wide. “Is it, like, okay to? You think?” 

Johnny presses up into his hand, kissing down his neck. “I’m 8 months pregnant, not dead. It’ll be fine.” 

They haven’t done that since—starting this… thing last month. Johnny wants to, though. Badly. Wants to feel Brent inside him again. 

“But—the bed rest?” 

Johnny scoffs. “Well, I’m certainly in bed.” 

“Okay,” Brent says, sounding breathless. He rolls Johnny so he’s on his back, gently. It makes his chest swell with emotion over how careful Brent is with him, how into everything that’s happening he is. Sometimes Johnny can hardly believe a little person is gonna be here in a month, but Brent—Brent’s fucking waiting for it, has gotten even more anxious since they slept together again last month. 

He tugs down Johnny’s sweatpants and shifts on the bed so he can ease them off. Johnny’s dick springs free and Brent grins down at him. “I’m gonna miss this comando thing you’ve got goin’ on, man.” 

Johnny smirks at him. “Yeah? Maybe I’ll keep it up.” 

Brent groans and bends forward, kissing the head of his cock. “Maybe you should,” he whispers, suckling the tip between his lips before pulling back to remove his jeans and boxers. Johnny bends his knees, looking down at himself. It’s not the most attractive sight, that’s for sure. Well, not to him anyway. He’s used to his sculpted body and now his belly is big and wide; he can’t even see his own dick over it. That part is—distressing, to say the least. But Brent—Brent’s looking at him like he’s the most gorgeous thing on the planet. Johnny’s breath catches in his throat at it, at the way Brent starts dragging his palms fervently up and down Johnny’s inner thighs. 

“God, look at you.” 

“I can’t,” Johnny deadpans, making Brent laugh. 

“Well,” he says, ducking his head between Johnny’s legs, mouthing his balls. “All the more for me.” 

“Sap,” Johnny says, rolling his eyes even as his pulse kicks up. He reaches for the lube, nearly rolling to the left in the process. He recovers though, and hands it to Brent. 

“C’mon,” Johnny says. 

“So fucking bossy,” Brent replies, without heat. He circles Johnny’s hole with his fingertips and then coats his fingers. 

When Seabs starts sucking his dick, Johnny moans and writhes around, pressing into the finger that’s slipped inside him. When Brent’s deep throating him and giving him two, Johnny’s practically sobbing. 

“God, fuck me. I need you to—Brent, I—” 

Brent pulls off his dick with a pop, nuzzling his beard against the length of it. “I got you, sweetheart.” 

He crooks his fingers against Johnny’s prostate before withdrawing, coaxing out a long whine. 

He sees Brent look around the room, knows what he’s searching for. “You don’t—you can’t exactly knock me up again right now.” 

Brent meets Johnny’s gaze, eyes wide. “Uh. Yeah?” 

Johnny has the weirdest immediate thought of _sadly_ , which is—plain ridiculous. It’s not like this was planned. But he can’t help and think what it might be like if—if it did happen again. If they actively tried to have a kid together. Johnny shakes his head, imperceptibly. He looks at Brent and says, “Yeah. Wanna feel all of you—like that first night.” 

Johnny still remembered it vivid detail, after all these months. Still thought about it more than any fuck he’s ever had. 

Brent groans, dropping his head to Johnny’s torso. “Fuck, you were so hot. Couldn’t get enough of your sweet ass.” 

So, Brent remembered it too, then. The thought of it sends sparks through him. 

Johnny shivers, reaches out to twine his fingers in Brent’s hair. “Yeah, c’mon.” 

Brent kisses his way up to his belly, kissing his bump like he always does. “Want you like this,” he whispers, hands framing his mouth on Johnny’s stomach. “Wanna see you. Both of you.” 

Johnny shivers again, scratching his nails over Brent’s nape as Brent’s hands roam all over his belly. The baby’s been pretty quiet tonight, thankfully. Lately Johnny’s been getting kicked within an inch of his life. Kid really wants to come out already. 

“You really love this kid,” Johnny says, sighing as Brent’s lips ghost over his belly button. 

“I really love you both,” Brent says, surprising the fuck out of Johnny. Surprising the fuck out of himself, too, if the way his head shoots up and he meets Johnny’s gaze head-on, eyes wide, is anything to go by.

“Shit,” Johnny breathes, mouth dry. Brent probably just means—buddies. Of course they love each other. They’ve been friends forever. And yeah they’re—lovers now, _dating_ , but Johnny. Well, Johnny’s been trying not to feel everything he’s been feeling for months now. Didn’t want to be in this too deep already if maybe Brent wasn’t. “Uh,” Johnny says, licking his lips. 

Brent surges upward, his abs pressed against Johnny’s belly. God, he loves the way that feels. He runs his fingertips over Johnny’s forehead and down his cheek. “I’m fucking in love with you, Tazer,” Brent breathes out, pressing kisses to Johnny’s mouth. 

Johnny groans and his hands shake as they come up around Brent, hugging him until he can barely breathe. “Me too.” 

He feels Brent exhale and then they’re kissing, wet and hard. “C’mon,” he says between desperate kisses, urging Johnny’s legs up around him. “C’mon, wanna feel you. Wanna fuck you while you’re carrying our baby. God, you’re so hot like this. Christ, Johnny.” 

Johnny’s dick throbs and he scrambles for purchase against Brent’s back. It’s a little awkward at first, but when Brent slides inside, a slow, delicious pressure, Johnny tries everything he can to get him closer, urging him off his knees and forward. 

“Nngh,” Brent grunts, letting himself tip, but still holding himself with his hands on the bed on either side of Johnny. 

“No,” Johnny says, “Down, c’mon. Want you all over me.” 

Brent’s eyes are wild and Johnny clenches around him, just to see them flash with arousal. “Don’t wanna—hurt you or anything.” 

Johnny scoffs and pulls at his shoulders. Brent goes, bracketing him. Johnny’s never felt so full or so safe all at once: Brent’s dick deep in his ass, his stomach pressed up against Johnny’s stomach where their—god, their _kid_ is, his mouth on Johnny’s neck. 

Brent’s fucking him in short little thrusts, mouthing at Johnny’s collarbone. Johnny scratches up at down Brent’s back, nails digging in, listening to his moans. “Fuck. Fuck, you’re so good,” he gasps. 

Johnny’s dick is drooling between them and he arches upward, pushing it against Brent’s abs on every thrust. “As good as I remembered,” Johnny whispers. “Don’t—don’t fucking stop.” 

Brent’s lips slide up to his jaw, latching onto it before bringing their mouths together again. “Won’t,” he says against Johnny. “Gonna fuck you all night, sweetheart.” 

Johnny moans deeply as they kiss, feeling overwhelmed in the best possible way. 

Brent makes good on his promise, leaving Johnny wrung out, boneless and panting, fucking him for hours in various positions, starting and stopping, drawing it out, making Johnny come three times before he’s through. It’s the most intense thing that’s ever happened to him, and he blames his fucked up hormones for feeling like he wants to cry by the time they’re just laying in each other’s arms, Brent pressing kisses all the sweat-slickened skin of Johnny’s neck and shoulder blades.

Or maybe that’s because the guy he’s in love with is in love with him back, and they’re having a kid in a few weeks. 

Nah.  
_______________________________

Month Nine

After Brent fucks him that night, they essentially can’t stop. Johnny wants sex and wants it all the time, and Brent starts screwing him nightly. Johnny feels like his ass is gonna fall out, but it's the best kind of overused, oversensitized sensation. Brent's been staying over pretty much non-stop now and Johnny, well. Johnny doesn’t exactly want him to leave, is the thing. 

It’s the night before his scheduled C-section. They’re laying in bed, both unable to sleep, even after fucking till they can’t move. Brent’s got one hand massaging the small of Johnny's back, in between their bodies, while his other rubs Johnny's belly. Johnny's swollen and tired, his ankles ache and his back aches and he’s so damn ready for this kid to come out. 

But he also feels fucking good right now, loves the way Brent is with him. Attentive and caring, yet still not completely and totally changing their relationship up. They still argue like they did when they were just friends. Brent still rolls his eyes and bitches Johnny out when he's being pissy. They're not fundamentally different, yet there's so much more: the whispered endearments and the touches and—everything. Johnny’s not sure when they would have gotten here if that night hadn’t resulted in him getting knocked up, but he’s pretty damn sure now they would have eventually. 

He’s so lost in his own thoughts as he tries with all his might to drift off into sleep that he barely registers Brent's hushed whisper. “Really gonna miss this.”

Johnny freezes and his eyes shoot open because what the fuck is that supposed to mean. "Huh?"

Brent kisses behind his ear. "Just—I know I’ve been staying over a lot with you being on bed rest, but I’ve still got my own place. Just. I dunno, I’m gonna miss being here. With you, and uh, and the kid." 

Johnny's chest feels tight as he thinks about how Brent essentially hasn't left since about a week after they hooked up. Sleeping in Johnny's bed every night, making him breakfast every morning before heading off to work. 

The thought of Brent _not_ being here now is—fucking weird. Johnny especially doesn't like the thought of him being the only one having 24/7 access to their kid and Brent just—coming over a few nights a week or something and then leaving again. 

Turning in Brent's arms would require way too much effort that Johnny can't muster, so he just tips his head back, tries to meet Brent's eyes ."Then don't go." 

He can feel Brent's heart pounding against his back and Johnny bites his own lip, hard. Maybe he shouldn't have said that. Even if Brent's going to miss it, doesn't mean he's ready to—to move in. Jeez, they've only been in an actual "relationship" for two months. 

Johnny's getting ready to open his mouth, take it back, when Brent shifts on his side and cups Johnny's face in his hand, kissing him fiercely. 

They're both panting when Brent pulls back to gaze down at Johnny, eyes so fond. "I was just waiting for you to ask, man."  
____________________________

Epilogue

Brent’s in the delivery room with him and their families and friends are out in the waiting room with balloons and obnoxious signs. Or so Brent has told him. When it’s over, Johnny’s got a bundle in his arms that weighs 8 pounds, 5 ounces and whose name is Wesley Seabrook Toews. 

Brent kisses him and then kisses their son. 

“He’s got eyes like the sea after the storm,” Brent says. 

Johnny groans. “If our lives are going to be one huge _The Princess Bride_ quote book, I take back the name, I take it back.” 

Brent kisses the matted hair at Johnny’s forehead. “As you wish.” 

[end]


End file.
